


Castleshire

by lilredsoupbowl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2017-12-16 12:24:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 55,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilredsoupbowl/pseuds/lilredsoupbowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regency England AU; Jane Austen inspired-ish. Emma's beloved grandfather has died. The family fights over inheritance as Emma enters society for the first time - altogether, she knows she should have more pressing matters than the man with the bright, mocking eyes!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Blanchard family had presided over Castleshire since the time of William the Conqueror. By 1800, the family had become the staple of the area's society. The hill the Blanchard's home rested upon overlooked the entire village. A person could never consider themselves truly happy until they were invited to the manor house – Snow Peak – for a soiree with the very best of polite society.

Old Mr. Blanchard adored a good party; lively conversation and to have his halls filled with music and laughter. He lived for supplying his closest friends (a group ranging into the twenties in number) good food and merriment.

His countenance for this lifestyle only increased when his sweet lady passed away; leaving him and his daughter quite alone in their big, hallow home.

Determined to supply his only child with only the very best, running from his own heart's loneliness, Old Mr. Blanchard packed his and Mary Margaret's things – racing abroad where the young woman could learn French from native tongues, drawing from a true master, dancing, sea bathing – everything he deemed exciting and accomplished!

Ah! The accomplished young woman that returned!

Bright and beautiful; kind and as generous with her wealth as her papa had always demonstrated was right for people of their station to the lessers.

A true surprise for the villagers had been the new Mrs. Blanchard that accompanied the family back to Snow Peak. Only a few years the elder of her new daughter! As dark a beauty as her predecessor. Most of the country society was inclined to think ill of the new wife. Not so jolly as the first, they declared –although most's mind were muddled at this point. The first Mrs. Blanchard having passed on more than nine years ago!

She was an excellent horsewoman; played the piano remarkably well – perhaps too much Steibelt for most's tastes.

But the lady was just as unsociable as her husband famed to be the reverse. Always uncomfortable in society; lurked towards the back of parties. Refused to dance! The few words she'd speak in an evening only escaped when her new daughter took it upon herself to entertain the woman – and then always serve. Harsh and direct.

It didn't take long for the women of society to mutter behind their hands about the silly foreigner – disregarding that she was an Englishwoman by birth; exiled along with her mother to France when only a child. Where most were proud to call themselves British by the good sense of being born on English soil – Mrs. Blanchard was accused 'French' for the misfortune of being raised elsewhere.

The tongue lashing of polite society continued for the year – which would turn out being the most peculiar of the Blanchard family's dynasty!

A trip to London for the season, villagers pinned over the news of Miss. Blanchard's suitors. Five, some clamored! An even dozen boasted others! Each one charming and well off. With fortunes and houses that could surely keep their sweet lady comfortable always.

Such excitement erupted throughout the streets of the small village when news of an engagement came from London!

Such disappointment to find that a Mr. Nolan from Shephardshire was simply a country curate; had not even been visiting for the season!

– was merely there visiting an ailing aunt! No one had managed to uncover his yearly income but determined the man had no living of his own!

Still the wedding occurred after the proper waiting period. The bride more lovely than ever – and the villagers discovered a Mr. Nolan to be quite a handsome young man. Truly, the couple the ideal of what one wished to see, arms linked, walking down the street.

Old Mr. Blanchard righted any hint of gossip or scandal by bequeathing the young man his own church and living; all local to keep his daughter nearby. His wedding gift an estate within walking distance of Snow Peak – a finer house than many a simple clergyman could boast! All white and gray stonework; ivy growing along the two stories. The young couple quick to name their dear little house Ivy Cottage.

The Nolan's became known to the village as a fine family. Reverend Nolan gave good sermons – not too long – every Sunday. They had a large family amounting six children. All eight Nolans' considered fair of face and marvelously witty. But wise enough to know the limits to such wit! A credit to their good breeding and righteous community.

It wasn't until Old Mr. Blanchard passed away that this story truly begins.

A family suddenly in mourning! A village abandoned in complete despair! Great wealth and the 'foreigner' never supplied the much needed son! Vast tracks of money in dispute!

The Nolan's eldest child paced the cottage's parlor; yanking at her uncomfortably stiff, black gown; fumbling with the collar her mama had just finished adjusting. Almost sixteen, the girl was outgrowing her once thought plain appearance – highlighting the fair features of both parents finally! Emma glanced behind her, finding her mama how messing with her sister Eva's state of dress; smoothing dark curls around a cherub face. At fourteen, Eva was an angel – devoted to anything and everything deemed good and proper.

Her other younger sisters were seated on the long chaise, awaiting their own inspection.

Anna, eleven years old and a wild beast, grimaced in anticipation. At five, Sophia was far too busy cooing to her doll about how lovely tea at Snow Peak would be. Emma cringed at the thought of the incoming tea party – having already been dreading the outing since the morning it announced.

Emma raised her head to the ceiling at the sound of running upstairs. Unsurprised when the seven year old Leo stumbled into the parlor; panting and grinning in mischief. Her only brother seemed far too content in his stiff suit; his hair slicked back. The maid who dressed him had done a smashing job – but Emma knew her siblings far too well!

Glancing over her shoulder to ensure mama's attentions elsewhere – now directed to a sour Anna – Emma walked to the side of her brother; lowering to reach inside his trousers' pockets… there! A vial of ink!

"Were you, dear little brother, going to sneak this into Grandmother Regina's tea," she whispered into his ear. "I am all astonishment," she joked with a grin.

"Put it back in my pocket and no one has to know," Leo pleaded.

"I'm afraid not," Emma moved to place the vial in her handbag instead. "Whatever we may feel for that woman – she is our family –"

"I'd do the same to you if I –"

"And she is a widow. We take care of widows; give them love and support in this difficult time."

Leo made a face; kicking his shiny shoes into the wooden floors.

"Now this is going to be even more a bore!"

"If you're a good boy, Leo – I'll play soldiers in the yard when we get home!"

Leo continued to pout; stubbornly wrapping his arms around his middle.

"Do it for mama, dearest," Emma whispered into Leo's ear. "Grandfather's death has been especially hard for her – she really is trying to maintain our family's bond."

"I'll do it for mama," Leo relented at last.

"Good boy!" Emma reached forward to kiss her brother's chubby cheek; resisting the urge to ruffle his blonde hair as he stuck his tongue out at her.

"Emma," their mama called, now standing in front of a giggling Sophia. "Is Leo dressed?"

"Yes mama," she answered back. "Looks every inch a proper gentleman – no one could ever guess otherwise just from looking at him!"

The little family laughed gently together; even Leo joining in – taking pride in his legacy within the family confines.

"Where is May," Mrs. Blanchard declared, glancing as far into the hallway as she could from the middle of the parlor. "Has Astrid not –"

The young nursemaid entered; curtsying to the lady of the house as the Nolans' youngest daughter was resting comfortably atop her hip bone. Little May Nolan. Two years old and already Emma believed her the loveliest creature to walk this earth. Bright, blue eyes like their father. Rich, dark hair from mama.

Mama began ushering the children and Astrid out of the room; down the long hallway and outside. The family carriage already waiting. Traveling with such a large family was always an event, Emma learned early on. Even if just up the road.

The family packed into the narrow seats. Leo 'accidently' kicked Eva in the shins – Anna retaliating for her sister's 'honor'. Emma and Mama attempting to separate all three within a box only so large -

Emma would have been overjoyed to exit the carriage – if she did not glimpse her 'grandmother' awaiting atop the house's grand staircase; surveying the mess of children flocking in through her doors.

The woman had never wronged her – nor anyone as far as Emma knew. But she always seemed so displeased; so severe! It really was quite perplexing! Especially since her grandpapa had been the kindest man that ever lived!

The woman was draped in the finest black velvet. Emma saw the hint of a red petticoat as she descended the stairs to greet them but quickly convinced herself it must have been a mistake. A trick played on her eyes. Surely, no widow would wear such a thing so soon after -

"Regina," mama greeted; gently kissing the woman's cheek. "It was so kind of you to invite us up –"

Emma was just fast enough to grab the apple Leo found on an end table's display; arm swinging backward to lodge it towards their gracious hostess.

"We agreed Leo," Emma hissed into his ear. "For mama, no –"

"My! Hasn't Emma grown?"

Emma turned back around; confused and worried about how long the attention had been on herself. Mrs. Blanchard was moving towards her; grinning like a serpent as she took the apple from Emma's fist; setting it once again on the end table.

"My – almost a woman now," her 'grandmother' supplied; taking Emma's face in her hands and pulling her chin upward. Inspected twice in one day!

"Such a shame, isn't it," Mrs. Blanchard called backwards to Mrs. Nolan.

"What is, Regina?"

"That Emma will not be 'out' now for a year. Seems a pity she'll have to wait to get her fill of society."

In this, part of Emma agreed. All other girls at an age with her would be attending dances, parties – some even boasting trips to London and Bath! She felt wicked admitting her discontent. After all, grandpapa deserved his memory honored. Mourning was very important -

"Society will surely wait," Emma declared. " – as I honor my good grandpapa!"

"Oh," cooed Regina as she lowered to pinch Emma's cheek. It hurt far more than when other's tried this affectionate act. Stun for minutes afterwards! "That is just the right type of answer from such a dutiful lamb!"

From here Regina worked down the line; supplying little remarks and compliments to mama as she had each child examined.

They moved onto the back veranda for tea; Regina explaining it was far too lovely a day to waste indoors.

"I do feel dear Leopold's loss severely," Regina confined to her mama. For a moment, Emma was almost moved to believe the woman – but the widow was far too quick to continue with a casual shrug. "But life goes on. And all of us owe it to ourselves to keep living."

Mama paused for a moment to swallow her tea; slowly moving to balance the cup once again on the delicate saucer. "I suppose you are right – papa wouldn't want any of us to suffer –"

"Have you heard from his lawyers yet," Mrs. Blanchard inquired. "My steward says they've been in correspondence with Mr. Nolan these past weeks."

"Indeed. David was assisting papa with some paperwork in the end – papa was so confused –"

"Do you know if any…progress has been made on the settlements?"

Here mama paled. For a moment, Emma wondered if this was Mary Margaret Nolan's breaking point – would she be splashing her steaming tea in the woman's face? Storming out of the house?

Could Emma gather up her siblings in time to prevent mama ripping her step-mother's hair out?

"No. I do not."

Here the conversation shifted to the local gossip. Courtships. Scandals. Observations about this year's harvests – it didn't take long for Emma's mind to wander. When tea was done the family was dismissed quickly; much to Emma's pleasure. She had to press a kiss to her 'grandmother's' cheek – but then raced into the carriage; quickly joined by her equal displeased siblings and mama.

"What does she mean about the 'settlements', mama," asked Emma.

Mama sighed; moving to sit little May on her lap.

"Your grandfather seems to have composed several wills; all within a couple months of each other. There is some legal dispute over which takes precedence –"

"So it is all about the inheritance?"

"Not entirely. Leo will inherit Snow Peak – he is the closet male in the session –"

"As my first order of business as Lord of Snow Peak," Leo announced. "I will kick that woman out of my house!"

"How unjust of you," mama answered. "Leave a woman stranded on the side of the road… Snow Peak has been her home almost longer than it was mine!"

"But –"

"You have no need of that house; she does. Whatever happens – I am resolved that Regina live there as long as she wishes! Your papa agrees with me on that account!"

"What is being contested," Emma attempted to continue the conversation.

"Snow Peak and your grandfather's other properties will all go to the next male in line: Leo – but there is also a great deal of money. In all wills, some generous amounts were given to all you girls' dowries –"

Eva squealed in delight; already day-dreaming of marriage. Anna was utterly unimpressed with such a prospect. Sophia still talking with her doll; seemingly immune to any talk around her.

Emma – was similar to Anna, honestly. It was practical. Something she'd have to deal with sooner than the rest. She chose to be mature and nodded her understanding; forcing her face not to read a moment of disgust over marriage prospects.

" – and some for your papa and I. And, of course, Regina received a settlement."

"So the issue would be-? Aren't we all getting enough to comfortably live on?"

"Yes, all of us will be very comfortable thanks to your grandfather's kindness – but his late wife finds issue with the sums mentioned in several papers. Claims it has shifted from the promise he'd made prior to their marriage –"

"That cow," Emma declared; filled with fury!

"Emma – she has to live. I hold little grudge against the woman for being practical. She has not had such a stable life as you or I –"

"Hang the woman! – to bring this up to you only weeks after –"

"Emma! Calm down!"

"I hope grandpapa hasn't put a ha'penny to her name! I hope she has nothing –"

"How could you wish that? Surely your papa and I have raised you better!"

Emma immediately felt shame; acting like a spoiled child – a horrible example for her younger siblings.

"I am sorry mama…terribly."

Mrs. Nolan reached across the carriage to pat her daughter's hand gently.

"It is alright, my love. But we must remember to show empathy to others. The harsher people… sometimes they need our kindness more-so; to remind them there is another way to be."


	2. Chapter 2

Reverend Nolan had received a thick letter in the morning post. While the family gathered to break their fast, Emma's papa sipped his tea; eyes skimming the pages contents over the brim of his cup.

Nolan was considered to be a gentle sort – after his sudden entrance into Castleshire society created a much needed stir, he'd become so enjoyed by the society at large that many had began to think him always their own: a true son of their parish. He was always prepared with a much needed ear for this flock; hands always willing to lighten his fellow humans' loads. For her part, Emma could not imagine a more noble father. She took great pride claiming him publically as her 'papa'.

Even if he still refused to acknowledge his appalling eye sight – getting worse each and every year. At home, he'd finally turned to a pair of spectacles; for his letters, sermons, and readings – but he'd always cast them aside on Sunday mornings; relaying on long memorized stanzas instead of public readings of passages.

Now, her papa was awkwardly balancing the wired glasses on the edge of his nose; barely keeping in place – and would not have been had the cup not tilted them backwards.

"Good news I hope," mama called down the table at him when he'd folded the parchment; stuffing it back into the envelope.

"I hardly know," papa admitted. "Gold has such a way of presenting things in letters! I gather he will be coming north now that the season has ended. He says we can both expect an audience with him within the week."

"Does the man expect to stay here on such short notice? Or that Mrs. Blanchard will put him up? – Goodness! Should it come to it, I suppose Emma and Eva can be moved back to the nursery –"

"Calm yourself, my love – Gold has indicated also sending dispatches seeking lodgings in town. Seems to think it will seem more impartial –"

"Impartial? Why must he seem impar – she's challenged it, hasn't she?"

"We do not know – I'm sure it is just a precaution for Gold. He's taken care of the Blanchard family since he was a young solicitor but also heads my own business ventures. The man is much too shrewd to alienate either client –"

"Humbug!"

"My love –"

Emma remembered Mr. Gold as the strange Scotsman that had visited her grandpapa when she was seven. An unpleasant man – but Emma was disposed to think well of him; almost liked him. He certainly made her 'grandmother' squirm during his stay. A steady countenance – he caused Emma to laugh during dinner one night; shocking every adult in attendance. For a moment, she'd have sworn to see a twinkle in the Scot's eyes when he regarded the giggling child but he was quick to school his expression. A thin frown as he finished his soup.

When mama's dear friend and confidant Mrs. Lucas came over for tea, Emma received her fill of London's newest scandal – involving Mr. Gold no less!

Mrs. Lucas had been a childhood chum of Mrs. Nolan. She'd had the good sense to fall in love with the doctor curing her ailing grandmother – promptly married; residing together with the newly healthy and feisty grandmother Mrs. Talbot. Prior to her romance, around the time Mrs. Nolan was enjoying an abroad education, Mrs. Lucas was a student at an established school and had made the acquaintance of one Belle French – the newly Mrs. Gold!

The late Miss French had arrived at the London season in full fashion – quickly exciting society at every turn. She was a sweet, clever young woman – holding both wealth and property to her own name; after a great-grandfather saw to an annulment in the family's line of inheritance. She was deemed a great beauty; the loveliest creature to float through the halls of London in decades. London was in a frenzy over whom would capture such a rare beauty – and Gold certainly had been a shock!

Gossip claimed they'd met at some play mid-season; Gold had the degradation to provoke the beauty into a battle of wits; a spar with words – and the sources report she had been victorious against the old stick in the mud. Mrs. Lucas cited no surprise here!

Gold was reported to have made several trips to her family's town house; every afternoon for a week. The engagement announced within two weeks to the disgust of everyone not involved in the match. Gold bought a license to prevent the banns being read – cementing that money of little concern for the established solicitor. He'd been married before – could boast a son from said union: so the marriage did not seem rooted in supplying an heir for his own wealth.

But he was a widower – many an old, lonely man has turned to a young, pretty wife. And many a silly, young woman would put up with an old man for the right price – But not Belle, her school chum declared!

And, based on the other bits of gossip supplied, Emma was disposed to believe Mrs. Lucas on this front. The new Mrs. Gold had no use of more wealth – the entire affair seemed to have been a love match.

Amongst both married women; both of whom married solely for love themselves, neither would outright voice the same for Mrs. Gold.

Just agreed it a peculiar match as they sipped their tea. Sophia and Mrs. Lucas' only daughter, Clara, were seated beneath their mothers on the floor; bottoms resting on their mothers' skirts as they watched and mirrored the proper gentry behavior of tea time: whispering into the other's ear earnestly as they clutched dolls in their laps.

Emma sat on the chaise with Eva and Anna on either side; all backs straight, hands gently rising their cups to their mouths as they sipped gracefully. All three the proper ladies mama had raised them to be. But Emma noticed Leo and James and Fredrick Lucas kicking each other; fidgeting in boredom. Even Eva was starting to falter in her perfection; the tea saucer slightly shaking in her hand.

"Mama," Emma called from the chaise; causing both Mrs. Nolan and Lucas to turn their heads; regarding her across the drawing room.

"Would it be alright if the children and I took a turn about the garden – before the rains starts?"

"That would be delightful!"

"I must caution you, Emma dear," Mrs. Lucas warned. "Dr. Lucas has been called away to a patient the past few nights. The boys may be a bit rowdy –"

"I'll just leave them both to Leo for an hour," Emma joked. "Perhaps these three terrors can tire themselves out!"

Mrs. Lucas smiled over at her; looking hopeful and relieved. Dark circles under her eyes hinting both boys had been taxing on her nerves.

"Grandmamma has said I should give them a pair of dueling pistols and send them off to the back fields," Mrs. Lucas admitted with a laugh.

After Emma's lifetime of experiences with Mrs. Talbot, she questioned how serious the older woman had been. Mrs. Talbot did so enjoy her extensive collection of weaponry; most of it proving to remain in commission during various 'tests' at gatherings to Lucas Lodge. Even as mama and Mrs. Lucas laughed at the widow Talbot's antics, Emma found herself slightly concerned over Fredrick and James safety. After all, she'd been allow to 'play' with a crossbow dating back to the War of the Roses when she was nine and asked the widow 'sweetly'; papa nearly got shot in the knee when he'd attempted to free the contraption from her tiny fists.

She took the boys, Eva and Anna into the back garden – Clara and Sophia refusing to leave their mamas.

Eva took a seat on the iron bench by the roses; sketching merrily in her drawing book. The sweet girl almost oblivious to the world outside her immediate sketches of flowers and insects.

Emma organized Anna, Fredrick, James, and Leo into a game – pretending they were leaders of the English Armada; touring the foreign lands over seas. Everything was mostly civil fun until Emma declared they'd reached Madagascar under the large oak tree. Anna raced to grab hold a fallen branch; waving it towards the other's as if it a great rapier.

"I was playing you lot all along," she declared. "I am the dread pirate Annabella the Dastardly and you've led me straight to the treasure of the British crown!"

The other four quickly retrieved their own branches; all five dueling. Loudly calling out the others – the three boys flipping sides repeatedly! Eva peeked up from her sketching at the chaos unfolding across the yard; sighing as she returned to her hobby.

When the rain started; thick droplets attacking the five in the yard, Eva squealed in distress; holding her sketch book protectively against her chest as she dashed back indoors.

Anna was swinging atop long hanging branches of the oak tree; climbing higher and higher as she declared to the sky the victory of the pirate Queen; waving her arms about like she was performing some pagan rain dance.

Leo was at the bottom of a pile on the ground; Fredrick in the middle as little James laughed atop both – Emma trying to pry the three of each other.

Luckily Eva had seen to stopping by papa's study after her escape; pointing out the window of the garden and sending papa to Emma's aid. If not, there was certainly little hope of removing the high spirited boys from each other – and papa's rational sweetness was the only thing to talk the pirate Queen down from her perch.

Mrs. Lucas departed, scolding her sons as the family headed for their carriage; Clara looking equal displeased.

When the Nolan child gathered around the fire to dry; Astrid and Johanna draping them in warm towels as mama forced warm beverages down their throats, papa relayed the newest dispatch from Mr. Gold.

His lady was situated in a rented house the next county over –apparently impatient to leave London - and Mr. Gold would be having an audience with Mrs. Blanchard in three days time.

"We'll be having him for dinner, my love," Reverend Nolan told his wife.

Emma was never certain how her mama felt about the solicitor she'd known most of her life; first as her father's and now her husband's. But she seemed to wear a genuine smile as she wiped the streak of mud off of Anna's face, declaring,

"We'll have to order up a fine dinner for the man, then."


	3. Chapter 3

In three days time, Mr. Gold arrived in Castleshire. After paying his respects to Mrs. Blanchard at Snow Peak, he traveled south for Ivy Cottage – Emma noticed a grimace on his face as her younger siblings raced out the front door; running along side his fine carriage.

It was not often they encountered a stranger from London. Emma herself was excited to see the rare beauty he had married – but alas! Mr. Gold was the only occupant of the carriage.

The man still walked with a limp, leaning heavily on his cane; waving his arms frantically when the servants attempted to assist him. Mr. Gold approached the line of Nolans waiting by the door. He nodded stiffly to papa; managed a surprisingly gracefully bow for mama, Emma, Eva, Anna, and Sophia. Leo loudly inquired if Mrs. Blanchard was in a foul mood as usual– earning an almost affectionate pat on the head from Mr. Gold as he was led into the house by mama and papa.

"Did you have a pleasant trip," mama asked.

"Not in the least – how can you country people stand such vile roadways? A couple miles out of London and it looks like the 10th century outside my window; half expected to see a legion of Romans marching along the side of the road!"

"There, there," mama laughed. "You've arrived now – and I've had the foresight of having them lay out dinner straight away. I remembered how you hate to dawdle –"

"Quite right," Mr. Gold agreed, offering his arm to mama.

Papa offering an arm to both Emma and Eva as he led them into the dinning room.

Johanna had outdone herself with the meal; table laded with salads, potatoes and a succulent roast – mama always insisting they entertain all guests in style. As everyone took their seats, Astrid ran in from the kitchens to retrieve an extra place setting from the table.

"We had thought you'd be bringing the new Mrs. Gold with you today," mama explained.

"Mrs. Blanchard indicated Mrs. Gold would not be… that she would be denied access to Snow Peak."

"Goodness! I had no idea –"

"It is of little matter. I would not have my wife publically slighted and, first and foremost, this is a business call."

"But she has left London," Emma ventured.

"Yes – Mrs. Gold is very adamant that I needed to relocate to the county; claimed the fresh air would do me some good." He looked around the table here, eyes locking with papa's.

"But I can assure you the business in Town will not falter! My boy – I believe you've met him before Nolan – he has been working as my apprentice for the past few years and will be overseeing all dealings in London for the next few months. And of course I will be keeping a close eye on everything –"

"Relax, Gold," papa insisted. "I'm sure both Golds have our interests well sorted – and of course you should be allowed a summer in the country!"

"Of course you should," mama agreed. "And I will call on Mrs. Gold as soon as you both are settled. A dear friend of mine, a Mrs. Lucas, was an old school fellow of Mrs. Gold and I'm sure would be delighted to renew their acquaintance."

For the first time, Emma thought Mr. Gold looked quite pleased; man even laughed when Leo declared Mrs. Gold would be allowed to visit Snow Peak anytime once he took possession!

After dessert, the children were dismissed to the nursery – Eva glanced back as she was ushered out the door, livid that Emma was allowed to remain and hear the proceedings; after all, there was only two years between them!

Emma was certain she'd be accosted the moment she entered her and Eva's shared room upstairs. Eva was as ready to be viewed a young woman as Emma wished to remain a child.

Once the dishes were cleaned, the port offered to Mr. Gold and promptly denied, Mr. Gold cleared his throat and began,

"It has recently come to my attention that an agreement was drafted – some seventeen years back – while you and your father were staying in France, Mrs. Nolan. Are you aware of this?"

"I am not, sir. To what does this agreement entail?"

"It seems that during you father's courtship of Mrs. Blanchard – then Miss. Mills – he drafted and signed an agreement over a sum to be placed solely on her; the agreed sum and multiple drafts of the document all overseen by her own mother -who seems, from her correspondences, quite eager to testify-"

"I can assure you sir, I know nothing –"

"It appears the only binding part was after the event of their marriage, Mrs. Blanchard would receive this endowment."

"And did she not," Emma asked; fuming. In her years married to grandpapa, surely the sum was reached!

"She claims it has not been so. Separates the money given weekly for her household accounts and personal spending from this endowment."

Mr. Gold paused for a moment, allowing the three Nolans to consider this claim.

"Based on the ledgers amounting what's she spent the last few years, the debt would have been paid in full ten times over. However, should this agreement stand and Mrs. Blanchard's side seen favored, the money will have to come from somewhere –"

"Is Snow Peak in danger," mama asked.

"No, the estates are sound. What I mean would be the sums offered to the other family members – the girls dowries for one –" here, he nodded towards Emma.

"If Mrs. Blanchard wins at court – should this go to court – everything will have to be halved."

"Could you run intermediary for us," papa asked. "Try to discuss a sum with Regina that would makes us all happy? Surely there's no reason to make this public! To insight a scandal!"

"I could not," Gold replied; twirling his thumbs together atop the table. Emma found her fists clinched in her lap; her tongue itching to lay into the man. What in the world was he about? Not willing to -

"Mrs. Blanchard has released me from service – for the first time since I started my career, I no longer oversee the business of the Blanchard family-"

"Surely –"

"I do still oversee the business of the Nolan family – and for that: I caution you against giving in so quickly to any sum. I have seen the document; my son is currently looking into the details. It was never officially notarized –"

" – But it was my papa's wishes," mama interrupted. "I would never tarnish his –"

"My dear girl, your papa's final words on the subject were drafted by me – several times – in London. Properly notarized and stored. He wanted his dear ones looked after – not to give that witch vanity pennies!"

Mama gasped; finding her mouth behind a handkerchief at such a tart word being used for her step–mother. Emma was trying to school the smirk rising to her face; inclining her head slightly in agreement.

After Mr. Gold took his leave, cautioning the family once again to keep fighting – and suggested limiting their social interactions with Mrs. Blanchard until things were resolved – Emma watched his carriage driving away next to her papa; head resting on his shoulder as his arm hugged her close.

"It may all be for the best, little one," papa muttered into her ear.

"The best, papa?"

"I could never lose you to some fortune hunter – a small dowry could help your old papa weed off the unworthy!"

Emma laughed heartily with him, the pair stopping only when they looked into the parlor to find Mrs. Nolan seated on the chaise; hands folded in her lap. Mama was staring down at her feet; brow creased – looking more conflicted than Emma had ever seen her.

Mama always had the disposition to take things to heart; to shoulder all the burdens she could – especially other peoples. Emma began to cross the room to comfort her mama but papa stopped her, whispering into her ear to head upstairs for bed.

Emma paused on the staircase to look back into the parlor, finding her parents locked in a tight embrace; mama sobbing into his shoulder.

In her bedchamber, Eva was seated in the bed; back against the pillows as she read from a book – placing it to the side the moment Emma entered and demanded she be told the entire exchange immediately.

"Grandmamma has claimed our inheritance," Emma replied as she readied herself for bed. "The dowries will be broken down if the case found in her favor –" glancing behind to find Eva eagerly eating up each and every syllable, Emma could not help herself from adding, "And since I am the eldest, I will receive all parts of the dowry money left over; marry a gorgeous Duke or something – and you will be left an old maid. But do not fret, Eva dear! I will certainly allow you into my household – you can be my children's governess! Wouldn't you like that? I can go off to the season, tour Europe, attend the finest balls and assemblies and you can raise my children for me –"

Emma wasn't amazed when Eva lodged a pillow at her; huffing madly in the bed.

"What really happened, Emma?"

"What I said to start," Emma answered as she moved to her side of the bed. "Mrs. Blanchard has a possible claim to more money than we expected. Mr. Gold finds it likely it will be unfounded and quickly righted. If not, the money will come from all our individual sums," seated on the bed, Emma leaned over the bedside table to blow out the remaining candle.

"And I will never allow you to raise my little dukes and duchesses with that kind of behavior, Eva! Clearly, we'll just have to hire you out!"

"Be quiet you!"

"No, I'll have to turn to another spinster sister – Anna possibly –"

"Anna will have your little dukes and duchesses stuck in a mutiny in no time."

"Sophia then!"

"Go to sleep, Emma!"


	4. Tea with Mrs. Gold/ The Start of Sir Archibald's Cricket Match

Mr. and Mrs. Gold quitted their old lodgings and let a manor house not far from the Castleshire village within a fortnight of Mrs. Nolan and Emma paying Mrs. Gold the first call. It was customary to visit a newly married woman, and mama was keen to show kindness to a woman who held so little acquaintance in the county (and had already been snubbed by Mrs. Blanchard). 

Emma was pleased to discover the new Mrs. Gold just as lovely as the gossip from London had reported. Mrs. Gold was of small stature; large, bright blue eyes and curly ringlets resembling more of a doll than the wife of a gruff London solicitor – Emma decided her to be quite meek; a sweet, docile creature. 

But weeks into their acquaintance, ‘docile’ no longer seemed to suit the new Mrs. Gold. She was kind and full-hearted but it was clear that Mrs. Gold exercised a dominion over both Gold men.

She was resolved the Mr. Gold join her on long, country walks daily – insistent that the walks were for his health. When such directions were challenged by the man himself, Emma had overheard Mrs. Gold threaten, many a time, Bath; to take the waters – each time Mr. Gold was quick to relent. A country walk much more to his liking than the spectacle of Bath!

From conversations between the Mrs. Gold, Nolan, and Lucas, it seemed to Emma that Mrs. Gold was in constant correspondence with her son-in-law in town and running his household for him.

In the months since first bearing the name Gold, Mrs. Gold had managed to become indispensable to every aspect of the Gold men’s live; Emma found herself wondering how either survived for years without Mrs. Gold. 

One afternoon tea in the new Gold manor house, after Emma admitted to enjoying novels, Mrs. Gold would book no refusal to showing both guests into her personal library; climbing to the top of a ladder to reach her Ann Radcliffe collection. 

“Have you read The Romance of the Forest? Or The Mysteries of Udolpho?”

Emma answered the negative for both; glancing between Mrs. Gold balancing atop a ladder and mama clutching her hands next to her; panicking that Mrs. Gold should take a fall. 

“Oh! I’m afraid I’ve already lent out Udolpho and quite forgotten,” exclaimed Mrs. Gold as she started down the ladder; The Romance of the Forest in hand. “I thought my new son could use a distraction; trapped up in London by himself.” 

Mama released a sigh of relief when Mrs. Gold’s feet once again fit the floor. 

Passing the book into Emma’s hands lovingly; skimming the spin of the novel gently before pulling away, Mrs. Gold excitedly tempted the story to the younger woman, “this novel is not for the faint at heart – it’s filled with suspense, romance, and scandal! Of vicious plots! Of escape attempts! You may even find yourself reading the whole thing, cover to cover, once you leave this afternoon – up into the wee hours of the morning completely enraptured –“ 

Mama laughed good naturedly, “I must caution you than, Mrs. Gold. This novel will most likely be making the rounds in our family –“ 

“Quite so,” Emma agreed. “Eva will insist on reading it – my sister might pull it out of my hands the moment I exit the carriage –“ 

“By all mean,” Mrs. Gold assured them. “Let it ‘make the rounds’. Once you’ve read something truly wonderful, however many times you read it again, it’s impossible to capture that moment of purity; to be completely blank and unbiased yet again. The only remedy I have found is passing my books along for someone else to discover.” 

A clock chimed from the hallway. Past one already!

Realizing they’d overstayed their call, Mrs. Nolan and Emma bid their goodbyes to Mrs. Gold. 

“So I can expect you and Mr. Gold for the picnic,” inquired mama again. Mrs. Nolan was just about to finalize the guest list for the end-of-summer soiree. 

“Of course,” Mrs. Gold exclaimed. “The way Ruby and her boys talk about it, it seems one’s not part of the neighborhood until they’ve attended the cricket match and picnic – I might even be able to boast a surprise for the younger crowd,” Mrs. Gold tempted; casting a sly smile at Emma. 

Raising her eyebrow, Emma asked, “Indeed! What?” 

“I can assure the men a more… animated game than I understand is usual. Another male joining the teams.” 

Images of Mr. Gold dressed in loose clothes; racing to hit or throw the ball entered Emma’s head. She had to school herself to not burst out into laughter – such a silly sight it would be! And so unlike the man to play sports with the other Castleshire men! 

“Is – is Mr. Gold so ‘animated’ about sports? Is he a fine player?” 

It was Mrs. Gold’s laughter that echoed through the library; the woman having to place a handkerchief against her mouth to muffle some of the noise. Once she’d calmed herself, she explained to Emma that Young Gold would be visiting for a couple weeks and his visit would fall within the cricket match. 

“I wish I could be a proud mama here and boast of my new son’s skills – but I’ve never seen him play; nor do I think there’s much opportunity in London. I mentioned the outing in a letter and he seems most eager to take part –“ 

“I’m sure the men will be excited to hear another joining the game,” Mrs. Nolan answered. “The teams are a bit scarce in number–“ 

“The male species is scarce in number in Castleshire,” Emma joked. “Alexandra was just lamenting the number of dance partners to be had.” 

“Well! I can promise my son to the men for their sport and to the young women as a dance partner – all without knowing his own inclination for either or having the grace and talent for both! He will do as I command”, Mrs. Gold announced with a prideful smile. 

All three laughed as they lowered to curtsy. Before Emma followed her mama to the door, she glancing back just in time to see Mr. Gold exit from an adjoining room: his study. 

More evidence of a deep affection; a shared love in Emma’s eyes. Their favorite rooms; the rooms both seemed to reside in the majority of their time, were chosen to be connected. Not opposite ends of the house. But side by side. With a door they could chose to shut – Emma imagined, when business of little import; when Mrs. Gold was not expecting company, the door was left open. One or both parties navigating into their spouse’s space comfortably. 

“Are you ready for our daily walk now Mr. Gold,” his Mrs. asked with a smile; taking his arm and leading him towards the door to their garden. 

“I don’t need –“ 

“Come, come! It is most good for your health and spirits! We have not come to the country to be shut indoors all day – why leave London at all if not for long, country walks?” 

“London – “ 

“London had stuffy rooms and dirty air – here we have adventure! Miles of hills and valleys to explore!” 

Allowing himself to be guided away, Emma heard ‘yes, my love’ before mama turned around and gestured for her to follow. 

Weeks followed and another September found its way to Castleshire. 

Sir Archibald had once again asked Mrs. Nolan to send out invitations for him; his annual picnic and cricket match a beloved end of summer event. 

Sir Archibald was the village’s well-to-do bachelor; something so synonymous with his personage that Emma never recalled anyone hinting about the man finding a spouse. Certainly no unmarried daughters seemed to ever be presented to the lord as a ‘desirable match’. After knowing him her entire life, Emma could only recall one year Sir Archibald was imposed upon to go to town for the season – and he returned just as soon as he could. 

He liked his home, he’d explain to his friends. Fields Abbey was a glorious place; situated in the valley off the forest. Sir Archibald was free to go hunting to his heart’s content. Play with his dogs. Invest an active interest in his tenants lives and betterment. And, when a melancholy did invade his forty some years of solitude, he’d invite his dear friends to his estate and throw delightful parties for them – his happiness more rooted in other’s merriment than his own. 

The Nolan children were more excited for the match than usual. It was to be their first outing since Grandfather’s death – and mourning had been downsized to muted colors, small gatherings, but still no dancing!

Emma, Eva, Anna, and Sophia were all dressed in a muted purple – Leo allowed to wear his usual clothes (since he was playing with papa) but mama had fashioned a small, folded ribbon to be pinned against his breast pocket. A reminder, she’d explained when her son questioned the addition. 

Mrs. Blanchard had declined the invitation – since her mourning period lasted into next spring. And, though she knew it was wicked, Emma felt the party lost little from her absence! 

When the Nolan family arrived to Fields Abbey, a large, white tent had been pitched next to the cricket field; filled with refreshments and goodies for all. Blankets and chairs situated around Sir Archibald’s gardens. 

The man himself raced down the stairs to greet the Nolans; taking Mrs. Nolan’s hand with reverence. 

“I must thank you for playing hostess again, old friend,” he commented as he led them to the tent. “Taking the trouble –“ 

“It is never any trouble,” Mrs. Nolan assured him. 

“Who has arrived so far,” Mr. Nolan asked; lightly swinging his cricket bat back and forth in the air. Papa was a great sportsmen, Emma thought. The yearly cricket matches always brought something new out of him, something kept hidden elsewhere in the year: a true competitive spirit. Something Emma was sure she’d inherited straight from him. 

“The doctor and Mrs. Lucas – Fredrick, James, and Clara with them.”

“So that’s three to play.” 

“Six,” Sir Archibald correct. “If we’re including you, Leo, and myself – and Mr. Thomas and his son Charles –“ 

“And the Booths?” 

“Dr. Lucas says Old Booth cannot play today – but August will!” 

“Nine,” Mr. Nolan figured. 

“I could sit out,” Sir Archibald offered. “Indeed, I could!” 

“It is your match,” Mrs. Nolan reminded him kindly. “Certainly there’ll be no cause to forfeit your own enjoyment – besides! I can see Mr. and Mrs. Gold right there! And she has promised Young Gold –“ 

“But Young Gold has not arrived with them,” Sir Archibald stuttered. Already, Emma thought him berating himself; thinking the outing already a failure!

By the time they’d reached the Golds across the yard, most of the younger Nolan children had dispersed to greet other children – Leo and Ann racing towards the Lucas’ sons. Sophia to sit next to Clara under the tent. 

Eva and Emma remained behind to hear Mrs. Gold explain Young Gold’s delay. He’d had last minute business in London and would hopefully be arriving straight from town. 

Mr. Gold seemed to carry a nervous excitement. In his reserved way, at least. Even in his tidy suit; he seemed not as grim as usual. His eyes held a warmth as they glanced up from the conversation his wife carried with ease; studying the road. Waiting for his son to come. 

The party agreed to waiting; servants gathering to serve the luncheon Mrs. Nolan had planned. 

Alexandra Thomas raced to Emma and Eva when they entered the tent; grasping their hands as she pulled them away from their parents. Alexandra was only a month younger than Emma and a true English beauty. Golden hair and a light, easy laugh. An even temper and no airs about her sentiments. 

“Grandfather will be heading for Bath this winter,” Alexandra told them giddily; bouncing on the balls of her feet. “And has invited me to go with!” 

Emma smiled for her friend; feeling slight envy at the thought of all the concerts, balls, and parties Alexandra would be attending. All the interesting people waiting to be met! 

In Castleshire, most of everyone was some old friend of both her parents; someone she’d known since infancy or at least heard tales of all her life. Mrs. Gold and Young Gold might be the first new arrivals in her memory – but they were linked to her Grandfather’s solicitor. 

The thought of a fresh society was more than tempting. And Alexandra twirling about fine halls in a bright, garish gown – yes, Emma was envious. 

“Are you sure your mama will allow it,” Eva asked concerned. Mrs. Thomas was born in London and was not the biggest fan of large cities; owning that country life was just the right remedy for all happiness. 

“Mama will let me go,” Alexandra triumphantly said. “Grandfather has promised new gowns and shoes – and to introduce me to many a young soldier –“ 

Here, Alexandra blushed beautifully. The perfect innocence of an English beauty. Coy just enough to pass for modesty but not enough to be thought dim. 

“I am very happy for you,” Emma honestly answered. “It’s sound like quite an adventure – and I hear the society of Bath pleasant.” 

“Pleasant? I hear it is spell-binding! And the greatest musicians and singers will be there this winter! It is a pity…” Alexandra caught herself in mid-thought; closing her mouth and looking utterly ashamed. 

“What,” Emma asked. “Alexandra just say –“ 

“It really is wicked!” 

Emma was intrigued! She prompted farther for the conversation being withheld. 

“I was only thinking, since Grandfather will be taking the waters so much for his health – leaving me quite unchaperoned for much of the day – it is a pity you will not be able to come as well. To be my companion in Bath.” 

Emma had to smile at Alexandra’s impossible sweetness – to have included her in such a marvelous scheme! Emma could imagine the misadventures of Bath; of soldiers, dances, music, and new things – perhaps it was a good thing she’d remain at home this winter. Another season to mature before Emma Nolan was released upon Britain!

“It really is such a shame about your mourning,” Alexandra continued. “To think: you will be behind me an entire season! I might well be married by the time you can attend balls!” 

Well, Emma berated herself, she had asked Alexandra to continue; allowing for such thoughts to be voiced. Eva’s lips pursed; struggling to hold back a remark as Emma continued to smile, however forced. 

“I suppose I shall have to bear it as best I can,” Emma supplied dryly. 

Alexandra moved to pat Emma’s hand in understanding, “How brave you are!” 

“Indeed I am! Oh! There’s August- I really must go greet the man – pray excuse me Alexandra. Eva.” 

Emma left the shade of the tent once again to join her childhood friend August Booth. August was stretched out on a blanket next to the pitch; his straw hat resting over his face to block out the sunlight. Having always had the temperament for vice, Emma had little doubt he’d been up into the wee hours of the morning playing cards and drinking strong spirits. 

The excitement for the impending game was placed on the shoulders of the two ‘strapping’ young men in their 20s – and one would probably be as travel-worn as the other still inebriated. 

“Blast Emma! Can’t you stand right over there – you blocked the sun for a moment just then –“ 

“I cannot,” Emma answered as she flopped down next to him on the blanket, staring lazily done the field. “A fine day for a cricket match, is it not?” 

“A finer day to lay around bed all afternoon and come out only when the sun gone again!”

“Please say you won at least!” 

August was quiet. For a moment Emma thought him asleep – and had half the mind to grab his hat and allow the sunlight to radiate off his face! But he did that himself, peaking under the brim at her as his fingers began toying with a blade of grass; ripping it to bits. 

“I think it’s time I make my fortune… for papa to be proud of me.” 

“And? Have you thought about how to go about that?” 

“Clearly I will marry my fortune – dashing as I am!” 

Emma laughed at him kindly before prompting, “Maybe you should consider another route? Something not so mercenary!” 

“My next scheme is just as mercenary to speak truth! I have it in mind that I could join the navy!”

“After they caught Napoleon again – now you’re off to prove your heroism!” 

“I’m serious, Emma! A man like myself could earn his way by traveling the world. And I will not insult your intelligence that the… lack of current wars adds to the tempting nature of my scheme.” 

“Of course! Has your father heard of this yet?” 

August looked over at the tent, hissing in pain when his hat flew off completely. 

“He knows nothing yet,” admitted August as he moved to retrieve his hat. “Though I shall have to explain my case soon – to be off before winter hits. There’s still enough to buy my way into an honorable position – and then I can send my pay back to papa. The estate could start being repaired by spring if I get the ball into motion.” 

Emma looked over at her friend, wishing things would be as he’d hoped. 

The sound of gravel flying was heard from the road, a horseman on a brown steed racing towards Fields Abbey. 

“That shall be my rival of the day, I declare,” August sounded next to her, laying himself back down; his hat once again over his eyes. 

Emma watch curiously as the man dismounted, the horse led away as Mr. and Mrs. Gold approached. Mr. Gold clasping his son on the back as Mrs. Gold began the introductions with all present in the tent. 

“Is my rival an athletic-looking sort,” August lazily demanded. “Handsome enough that all the girls swoon? I really do detest when women faint over another man’s beauty! Always interrupts a perfectly nice outing when the womenfolk are having fainting spills left and right!” 

Emma felt anger rising at the thought of her fellow sex a bunch of silly-nillies; fainting left and right. As punishment, she grabbed August’s hat and held it just out of his reach. 

“I cannot tell what Young Gold looks like,” Emma called back as she leaped to her feet and dashed away from August. “The shadow of his brim quite covers his face.” 

True enough! The man seemed a dark shadow; covered by his hat and the shade of the tent. And surrounded by the gathered party. 

When Mrs. Gold had led him away, dragging him to where Emma and August fought over the hat in the yard, Emma watched behind August’s shoulder as Young Gold lowered his hat; playing with the brim almost nervously as they approached. With his hat off, he still looked a dark mass. 

Black hair. Hair longer than most young men seemed to keep theirs; messy from the long journey under a hat and sticking out in all directions. 

But a kind smile, Emma decided. 

Dark eyes but held an exciting gleam when they raised after his bow to her. 

Nerves seemed to dissolve when August clasped him on the back and led him back to the tent for a glass of something, loudly declaring, 

“You’re a bit late, chap!” 

Emma was left behind in the fields, twirling August’s hat as she moved to follow the pair back to the tent. 

Mrs. Gold smiling behind all three.


	5. The Cricket Match

Young Gold was very different from his father – in more than just looks! 

The son definitely had a darker coloring. 

The same eyes. Though the son’s much more disposed to have a glint of mischief and merriment shine amber against the deep brown. 

Both gifted with a keen wit -

But, where Mr. Gold displayed his more dryly; more often at others’ expense, Young Gold delighted in making himself appear the fool. Seated next to him under the tent, our heroine almost fell for the façade. 

As Mrs. Gold ladled food onto Young Gold’s plate, encouraging that he needed to recuperate before the cricket match begun, the newcomer was making Emma erupt in laughter with the story of his journey from London. 

The tale spun had him leaving London hours later than planned; straight from the Gold Legal offices where he’d been finishing a last minute errand for his father. 

Young Gold was quick to own that he was not a skilled horsemen; being raised primarily in Town leaving him much disadvantaged in that regard. Still, he claimed to have been keeping a steady seat – until a rabbit raced across his path on some country roadway; startling his horse! 

The horse reared back, knocking Young Gold off his saddle! Into an awaiting puddle of mud!

As Emma’s laughter grew, Young Gold transformed the puddle into a pool; as deep and treacherous as quick sand! Young Gold only just escaping with his life! 

Of course, after the spectacle he’d made falling and trying to rise again, the spooked horse took off into the woods. Galloping into dangerously uncharted wilderness! 

The poor, city-boy calling after his steed in vain, waving his hat in the air; pleading with the beast to return. Promising untold goodies and treats if ever they reached their destination alive! 

“And of course that did not work,” Young Gold lamented with a sigh. 

“I should think not,” replied Emma with a kind smile. Emma supposed she was quite the reverse of the man before her. Having grown up in the country, she knew full well hollering and waving your hat about would only scare an animal further. “However did you finally catch the beast?” 

“My one note of pride in the whole tale,” Young Gold admitted. “When it occurred to me that I may be scaring the poor horse: I stopped. Stopped stomping about. Stopped screaming at him. Stalked the thing into a nearby meadow; waited till his back was turned; nibbling a field of grass – and I leaped forward to take his bridle!” 

“And you finally caught him!” 

“Alas – no! I missed the bridle completely! Ended up landing once again in a pile of mud!”

Emma could not help the unladylike snort she made; mirth contagious even as the man before her seemed embarrassed by the whole tale; ears reddening as he glanced down to the ground; fidgeting in place. 

“I am sorry,” Emma tired; thinking her laughter had finally died down. But no! She was still snickering slightly; biting her lip to control herself. 

“Not at all! At least these moments of idiocy supply much needed humor elsewhere –“ 

“More”, Emma asked excitedly. “You have more to supply?” 

“Indeed! I’d wager a lifetime of the stuff!” 

“Really, then? For the good of humanity: you really ought to consider sharing such ‘trials’ with the world at large. Write a book. Send a mailer – these comedy must be shared!” 

“Maybe someday,” Young Gold started with a good-natured chuckle – but his attention was demanded elsewhere. All at once, he received inquires from the masses. 

Mr. Nolan questioning Young Gold on his experience with sports; trying to ascertain if he was reliable on the field. 

Emma decided her father unsatisfied with the results, quickly securing August for his team instead!

Mr. Gold hovered over his son’s shoulder, asking about different reports and documents. 

Young Gold diplomatically answered that he’d brought them for his father to look over – but all conversation of law was halted upon Mrs. Gold’s insistence; chiding both that they were at a party, not their offices. 

Alexandra wanted to know if he was musical. Did the young gentleman dance? 

Young Gold laughed at the very idea of being musically inclined but did answer that he danced. 

Animatedly, Alexandra began to explain plans for a ball in late October. The Thomas’ would be hosting a ball in honor of Alexandra’s sixteenth birthday; to announce her coming out into society. When Alexandra asked how long his stay would be in the neighborhood, not so subtly linking his stay with the prospect of another dance partner for her ball, Young Gold answered, 

“I am entirely at Mrs. Gold’s disposal!” 

It was a very good sort of answer. Even though Alexandra seemed disappointed to not immediately be adding another to her dance card, Emma had to own that she liked his answer. And his sly smirk when his attention drifted away from Alexandra’s pleading blue eyes to Leo jumping in front of him; eager for his chance with the newcomer. 

“Can you fly a kite,” Leo demanded. This inquiry holding an astounding weight for young Leopold Nolan. A coin-toss between reverence and indifference, if Emma ever heard one! 

“Well now,” Young Gold said; raising an eyebrow at the seven year old. “I suppose I do. I did, anyways - was a downright expert back in school –“ 

“I’m the expert in these parts,” Leo challenged with a determined tilt of his chin. 

Emma decided Young Mr. Gold made a good addiction to the present society. Lively. Good natured – with no qualms at being the dunce. A jolly fool, Emma thought.

However, when Sir Archibald was explaining his new draining system for the farms and struggling to announce the correct sum, it was Young Gold who had the figure ready at the drop of a hat. 

The general population was shocked be Young Gold’s speed. Mr. Gold remarking he’d never seen his son take an interest in agriculture before. And what would a London attorney know of such matters? 

Sir Archibald took a moment to count his fingers before replying that Young Gold was correct. The company left in awe of Young Gold – the newcomer modestly ensuring everyone that he’d just read of such a scheme in a London paper and recalled the facts. 

This excuse had the party satisfied as they exited the tent but not Emma. She hung back as the party divided, her father and Sir Archibald starting to debate teams, and chanced in Young Gold’s direction, 

“How clever you are – to recall the correct sum!” 

Setting his plate to the side, Young Gold once again muttered excuses; shaking his head at Emma’s compliment of ‘clever’. 

When Emma did not back down; raising her eyebrows as Young Gold attempted to pass the whole affair aside as meaningless, he finally relented. Sighing as he looked around, he turned to her once more and explained, 

“I – I tend to recall what I read. Any little thing, really. Weather reports, agricultural notices – most I have little to no interest in but they always seem to stick in my head…” 

“And figuring the sum?” 

“Well: that was easy. Just simple arithmetic!”

Emma was about to debate how simple the arithmetic was – but Young Gold was called to stand to the side of Sir Archibald. 

The younger boys of the neighborhood had already been divided between the two captains; Sir Archibald and Mr. Nolan. The able bodied elders as well – leaving a young man at his athletic peak of twenty-so for each! 

August stood behind Mr. Nolan and Leo already; eyes still blinking against the harsh sun’s rays; ears hypersensitive to each squeal of delight voiced by Leo. 

As Mr. Nolan and Sir Archibald flipped a coin to decide rotation, the women moved to sit around the pitch. Servants rushing to supply chairs for each married woman; the others perched on spread out blankets and quilts. 

Emma moved to join Eva and Anna on the ground – finding Alexandra quickly sitting on her other side, whispering loudly in her ear, 

“A pity, isn’t it?” 

“What is?” 

“That he should not be dashing! I had my heart set on a flirt! A rake even – something to train on before Bath -” 

“Really? After even a limited acquaintance with Mr. Gold, you expected a violent rake for his son,” Emma nodded over to where Mr. and Mrs. Gold were seated; Mr. Gold eyes moving swiftly about as he watched his son move across the pitch. 

“To be sure,” Alexandra exclaimed. “Do you think Gold captured ‘the Beauty of the Season’ by being a gruff with little conversation? La! - the man must have the stuff of a romantic hero – he probably just hides it for propriety sake!”

“Lower your voices,” Eva muttered out of the corner of her mouth, staring demurely towards the field. 

For a moment, Emma thought Alexandra finished, preparing to watch the actual sport – but than Alexandra started again!

“And he does not dance! I have only a handful of weeks left and have not gained another, unmarried dance partner! Just August! – Really, it is too much to be born!” 

“I understood Young Gold as saying he did dance –“

“Yes but he’ll probably be gone by the ball!” 

“I highly doubt a man travels from London just to be gone by the fortnight – wait and see, Alexandra! Do not tear your hair out over what may or may not occur,” Eva answered with a sigh, praying to bring order back within her earshot. 

Alexandra released her own tensed sigh; fingers reaching to pluck a dandelion near her side. Absentmindedly, she twisted the weed about; watching yellow petals fall onto the blanket. 

“I simply must dance every dance,” Alexandra stubbornly finished. 

“And you shall! I’m sure,” Emma answered as she turned herself forward; watching her father throw a ball skillfully through Sir Archibald’s legs; knocking over a pin. 

“What say you,” Emma directed at her younger sisters. “Is Mr. Gold a romantic hero in disguise?”

Eva pretended to ignore Emma; a slight smile forming at the corners of her lips. 

Anna remarked, “Perhaps under the duress of Mrs. Gold!” 

That Emma could believe; looking over and seeing Mrs. Gold whispering something in her husband’s ear, his hand wrapping around her’s with a comfortable ease.

There was a subdued passion for the couple; something burning in their eyes that feed into whatever romantic sensibilities Emma found herself in possession of.

She doubted that would be a large sum! 

The many times she’d found herself rolling her eyes while reading ‘the Romance of the Forest’ sufficient proof! 

However, she fancied it was better to be sensible. Practical, even, about affairs of the heart. 

It was far better than behaving like the ninny next to her! 

August and Young Gold were joking about on the field; Young Gold waving his hat in the air as August tossed the ball about. An ideal scene of manly-bonding! 

Alexandra sighed heavily, leaning back on her elbows as she surveyed both young men. 

“It really is a pity neither one has regimentals,” she chanced defeated. “I’ve always fancied myself in love with a man in uniform. Shiny buttons; and a bright red waistcoat!” 

Annoyed, Emma leaned back on the blanket; watching the sky above her. A perfect day – clouds gliding by; no gray or rain in sight! She found herself tuning out the chatter, focusing on the sound of birds; on the shapes present in the fluffy scope of sky. 

Emma was grateful to be missing Alexandra’s ball; to not be expected to share a debut. 

Alexandra would get her regimentals, by and by! Even if the Thomas’ had to ship out to Plymouth! At her ball! At Bath! – Miss Alexandra Thomas would have a chance to exhibit! And Miss Emma Nolan might just get a winter without headaches! A season of peace! 

“What say you of regimentals, Emma? Surely you’d prefer a redcoat for a beau!” 

But clearly not today!


	6. Happy Birthday, Emma!

October twenty-second arrived with a gust of winter wind; bringing Emma’s sixteenth birthday in its wake. 

Astrid had taken special care to build up a large fire in the breakfast room prior to the family waking. A small arrangement of mums were stationed in the center of the table, having been gathered by an energetic Sophia yesterday afternoon – and painstakingly arranged by Eva before their elder sister even stirred upstairs. 

Reverend Nolan arrived in the breakfast room to find Eva still pruning and flustering over the flowers. When he complimented his daughter on the display she simply sighed, floating back into the kitchen claiming a desperate need for the scissors again. 

Mrs. Nolan entered and greeted her husband with a lingering kiss. Gently caressing his chin with her hand, smiling at the dusting of gray in his light hair, Mrs. Nolan remarked how it hardly felt like sixteen years. 

Pressing a kiss to the back of his wife’s hand, Reverend Nolan helped her into her chair. 

With Reverend Nolan sitting at the head, his lady across from him, the Nolan children scrambled into the room; sitting straight and proper in their seats as they awaited their elder sister’s arrival.

A still flustered Eva dashed in, waving a pair of scissors about; cutting off the offending stem that no one else seemed to notice or care about. 

Hearing the stairs creak, Eva hide the scissors under her chair before sitting down, waiting with the others as Emma entered. 

“Happy birthday,” the Nolan family exclaimed together; leaving Emma beaming at the display. Unable to contain himself, Leo leaped from his chair and raced to Emma; hugging her with a grin. 

Returning the hug, Emma thanked everyone warmly; eyes widening when Johanna entered from the kitchen with a delectable tray of tarts and pastries. With sixteen years of skill in sneaking, Emma grabbed a pastry from the tray as Johanna passed, biting into the flaky, sweetened crust. 

Unfortunately, Johanna had sixteen years of experience dealing with the elder Miss Nolan. 

“Why you! – you best be taking your seat, birthday girl!” 

Emma pressed a kiss to Johanna’s winkled cheek as she obeyed the housekeeper’s orders. Sitting and triumphantly finishing her stolen pastry; raising an eyebrow to taunt both Anna and Leo, who stared at her in reverence of her success. Emma knew she had a lot still to teach them both. 

“And don’t be eating too many sweets,” Johanna commanded. “Your mother may have had me make enough for an army and more but we do have guests arriving for tea this afternoon.” 

“I’ll be good, Johanna,” Emma promised with a smirk. Turning to Mrs. Nolan, Emma asked, “Who’s coming for tea then?” 

“Everyone apparently – seems we may have a bit of a party on our hands,” Mrs. Nolan laughed. “Everyone is fixated on wishing you a pleasant birthday!” 

“I told August we should just hold a parade in your honor,” Leo declared for all. “He and Young Gold were going to help me – but neither knew where elephants could be got. And Emma needs elephants in her parade.” 

“I certainly do! Must have elephants! And tigers!” 

“And bears,” Leo countered. 

“Oh my,” Johanna joked as she disappeared back into the kitchen. 

“Do you like the flowers, Emma,” Sophia shyly inquired. 

“I do indeed, Sophie. Very beautiful – and such cheerful colors!” 

“I arranged them,” Eva proudly added. 

“You did a marvelous job, Eva.” Just as she was about to added a comment about the height – critique some measure of the arrangement as a joke - Emma stopped herself. Noticing the happiness her praise gave Eva. 

Smiling across the table at all her siblings, Emma’s eyes landing on Anna. 

“And what did you get me Anna?”

Tossing her messy blonde curls behind her back, Anna exclaimed, “I’ll name one of the first islands I discover after you. Does that not do?” 

Emma laughed heartily, counting off her presents on one hand, 

“Let’s see: flowers, the intent of a parade in my honor, and an ‘Emma’ island someday – I’m sorted! Best birthday ever!” 

“Your grandmother Ruth has sent a bolt of fabric for a new dress,” Reverend Nolan nodded to a wrapped package by the door. Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulled out a palm sized envelope and passed it to his elder daughter, “And your mother and I had this sized in town –“ 

Excitedly, Emma ripped apart the envelope and watched as a long, silver chain fell into her hand. Attached was a circular, silver ring; glistening in the morning light. 

“It was my mother’s wedding ring,” Mrs. Nolan explained. “Have I told you that story?” 

Emma shook her head the negative as she continued examining the necklace, noticing how large the ring actually was. Far too wide for the long, slender fingers she’d regarded in the portraits Grandfather had at Snow Peak. Entire rooms would feel like a shrine to the grandmother Emma had never met. She knew Eva’s namesake so well from the portraits – even the sides of the ring seemed off! Flat from being seemingly filed down. 

“My parents were married by special license – at my mother’s father’s grand estate. My father had an elaborate ring commissioned from a giant ruby. However, the clergy present had found fault – deeming it not a solid metal ring. Therefore, any marriage conducted through it would be legally invalid. So my mother grabbed a silver bed-curtain ring from her maid’s rummage bag and they used that instead.” 

Emma traced the flat edge of the ring with her index finger, smiling at what she realized had been a fond tale from her mother’s side. 

“For some reason: I’ve always loved that story,” Mrs. Nolan continued. “That, when pressed, my mother and father married using a simple silver ring instead of any finery… I know it is not much – a sixteen year old granddaughter should be given a piece of their grandmother’s jewels at least but –“ 

“But Regina did not see fit to extending that courtesy,” Emma finished. 

“She wrote her lawyers advised against breaking up the estate until… some agreement had been reached,” Mrs. Nolan stammered, looking worriedly at her daughter. Even Reverend Nolan seemed a bit bashful as they waited for their daughter to declare, 

“I love it! It has such a lovely chain – and a wonderful story too, I think.” 

To prove her sincerity, Emma pulled the chain around her neck; watching as the former bed-curtain ring landed against her dress. 

“I shall wear it with pride,” she assured both parents. 

After the family broke their fast, the children were dismissed to dress for company. 

Astrid ushering the children back to the nursery as Emma and Eva headed for their room. 

“I must see the fabric grandmother sent,” Eva decided; placing the package on their bed. Eva at least waited for Emma to unwrap the gift; folding the paper back to reveal yards of machine netted cloth with sweetly embroidered red flowers and vines. Net dresses were already the fashion seeping over from France. With the wars over, Napoleon secure once again, the women of England were clamoring for anything new. And Grandmother Ruth had the foresight to add a cut-out newspaper illustration in the package; showing how to drape the netting over gowns. 

Emma observed, “I do believe Grandmother Ruth has sent me my first ball gown.”  
-~-  
The informal invitation for afternoon tea had become a grand to-do for Castleshire; Mrs. Nolan in her element as she presented an ideal hostess – drifting from person to person and ensuring everyone appeased: freshened in their cups and pastries. During tea, August quickly bored of the display; Eva’s playing of the pianoforte accompanied by Alexandra’s high-singing doing nothing for his constant headaches – the product of being too many spirits the night before! 

Seizing an opportunity, he grabbed Leo and Anna by the hands and lead them from the parlor; gesturing by craning his neck that Young Gold and Emma were to follow. 

The adjoining room Mrs. Nolan put to use as a classroom of sorts for the children. Blocks with alphabet letters littered the central table – August bounded over excitedly; sorting through the letters as he whistled under his breath; forming words as he boasted to the younger Nolans, 

“I think I shall put my skills to use and teach you lot today!” 

Curiosity etched into his face, Young Gold good naturedly sat by the table; watching August work with dark eyes that didn’t miss a trick. 

When August deposited a handful of blocks into Young Gold’s hand, it only took a moment for the man to identify the word; ears reddening before he quickly placed the blocks back on the table; shuffling them quickly as Emma tried to figure out the puzzle behind their backs – all in vain! 

Young Gold had successfully hidden whatever, no doubt delightful, joke the men shared! 

Feeling put-out, lamenting being female and missing out on all the good riddles, Emma sat with a sigh next to Young Gold, receiving her own puzzle from August as the two men argued.

“ – I thought you planned on schooling the children,” Young Gold hissed under his breath at August. 

August passed some blocks to Leo, a handful for Anna before turning back to Young Gold. 

“So I did – but you are younger than me! I can school you just as well! But, seeing your reaction, I suppose you might not be as naive as I’d anticipated!” 

“ – It’s indecent,” Young Gold chastised even lower. Emma tilted her head as she eavesdropped, still trying to solves Young Gold’s puzzle. Both seemed immune to her sneaking into their conversation - 

“Marauding,” Anna exclaimed loudly, causing August, Young Gold, and Emma to jump; a quick reminder for all of the younger presence in the room. 

“Very good, Anna,” August complimented. “I knew you’d enjoy that one!” 

Turning her attention to the blocks in her own hand, Emma turned the letters about; wondering what August had come up with - 

“Seriously,” Emma asked, unimpressed. “My younger sister gets ‘marauding’ and I received ‘SWAN’?” 

“Oh! So you’ve already figured that one out, have you?” 

“Give me a bit of a challenge, August! If you think yourself so very clever –“ 

“Alright, alright! Down girl! Why don’t you put your efforts into this one –“ August placed a more sizeable amount of letters into her hand before moving to sit next to Leo; assisting in helping the little boy sound out his puzzle. 

Dropping her ‘SWAN’ puzzle to the table, Emma started to turn over her new puzzle; moving the letter about in her palm as she searched for a pattern - 

A shadow cast across her hand as Young Gold leaned over her; trying to work out the riddle before her. 

“You better not try to solve this before me,” Emma threatened the young man. “Just because August hasn’t given you another –“ 

“I don’t think I’d like to see what August would hand to me next,” Young Gold joked. “Much better to piggy-back off yours –“ 

“You better not call it out then,” Emma continued. She was feeling perplexed; focusing more on the man next to her – and proving herself cleverer – than the letters in hand. 

When she declared, “Ubiquitous!” – the arch of Young Gold’s eyebrows seemed to suggest he’d reached the conclusion prior. But he did not lord the triumph over her. He genuinely complimented her before collecting more letters from the table; placing them in her hand and daring her to try. 

She didn’t feel the need to be competitive this time; she was not trying to race someone for the answer – and Young Gold was sporting such an easy, pleasing smile – he did not seem to be mocking her; gaging her intelligence by the speed in which she solved his riddle. 

It was an honest game for him – a lark he thought she might enjoy as well. 

When the answer came to her, Emma grinned. 

“Felicitations,” Emma announced with pride; unsure if the remark was meant over her birthday or her solving the last riddle. 

Young Gold laughed with her as the letters filtered out of her hand; landing once again on the table. 

Determined, Emma shuffled through the blocks in front of her; searching for something to catch her eye – something to make Young Gold laugh harder – 

She looked up to find the young man staring at the other end of the table; biting on his bottom lip as he regarded August assisting her younger siblings with their riddle. Young Gold appeared to be lost in some melancholy - Emma cleared her throat; raising an eyebrow at Young Gold as she awaited an explanation. 

“You are lucky, Miss Nolan,” Young Gold explained to start; turning to gaze into her eyes as his fingers fiddled with stray letter-blocks. “To be surrounded by family –“ 

“Are you not, as well? Are not your father and new mother just in the next room –“ 

“They are. And, I’ll admit to you, my new mama is as affectionate as I’d have liked to know from any mother. But- to have always known that … the comfort of having your family near – I dare say you’ve probably never been without them! Known loneliness – “ 

Emma opened her mouth to retort his claim – but closed it just as quickly; realizing a truth to his words. She couldn’t remember a time alone; without her siblings at hand. While she recalled a trip her parents took to London when she was a child, and feeling their loss bitterly: the truth was Grandfather had kept them all occupied and happy for those few weeks. There had still been togetherness… the comfort of family.  
“There… there may be truth to your assessment.” 

Young Gold released a laugh; a smile not quite reaching his eyes. 

“Are you lonely,” Emma inquired; instantly feeling like a nosy, busy-body. Who was she to press any type of confidence with Young Gold? 

For his part, Young Gold appeared not offended; shrugging slightly. 

“Not now, I’ll admit. But I was – “ He nodded to Leo across from them. “My mother died when I was a few years younger than your brother over there. My father tried, I truly think he did, but it was too much: raising me, schooling me, and running his practice. In the end, I was sent away –“ 

“Where? Where did Mr. Gold -,” Emma stammered; trying to grasp the thought of being cast from home as a child – or, worst yet, Leo being sent away. She couldn’t bare to part with him! 

It was inevitable, she supposed. Young men left home; for schooling or to seek their fortunes. And, from her side, she wasn’t sure the feminine option of staying home while life happened else where more tempting… but a haunted expression graced the younger Gold’s features; perplexed, he turned to look to her siblings before continuing his tale. 

“I was sent to a boy’s school in Scotland. Was terribly homesick for the first few years… we were a team, you understand. From my earliest memory: it was me da and me. For the longest time I thought I’d done something wrong – something that vexed him so much he couldn’t even deal with me himself…” 

“Didn’t you come home? For holidays?” 

“Some. But he was already expanding his business – I think I spent a handful of Christmases with the man before I was deemed ready to study the law and shipped somewhere else!” 

Emma lowered her eyes to her hands; trying to fully understand the life the man next to her had lived. Of not knowing where one belonged – of quiet, joyless halls that didn’t shake when a sibling was sliding down the stairs… 

“I am sorry, Miss Nolan – I did not mean to spoil your day… please: forgive my impertinence –“ 

“Not at all,” Emma declared; raising her eyes to his. “You have not spoiled the day! I am determined you count me amongst your friends here in Castleshire: and friends listen to the other.” 

Young Gold fixed his face into a grin again; trying not to ruin the merriment as he shared a riddle about a dog from the seaside – but the mirth still missed his eyes. 

Emma took a stack of blocks from the table and pressed them into his hands; smiling as she declared, “Solve this one!” 

As she’d expected, he was over-thinking the entire thing; his brow furrowed as he shifted the letters about. His nose twitched when he realized he’d reached a dead end; rotating the letters to try anew. 

Emma glanced down as the letters’ order shifted – but her gaze was mainly on Young Gold; studying his features as he sorted through chaos; trying harder and harder solutions until one finally clicked. So simple!

“I do not think we’re allowed to reuse someone else’s riddles in this game,” Young Gold accused with a warm smile; the word ‘SWAN’ seated against the palm of his hand. 

“Aye – but August never did take the time to explain this ‘game’,” Emma nodded to where August had spread himself on a chaise; one of Mr. Nolan’s agricultural reports shielding his face as he slept. Leo and Anna coming closer to ask for her and Young Gold’s assistance with whatever puzzle August had left them before his nap. 

Later in the afternoon, as carriage departed the cottage, Emma stumbled into the far-parlor – discovering Mrs. Lucas’ grandmamma seated in front of a roaring fire. For a moment, Emma retreated; thinking Mrs. Talbot asleep as she waited for her carriage… Emma jumped in shock when the older woman called out for her; gesturing excitedly for Emma to join her. 

“I have a surprise for you,” Mrs. Talbot promised; tucking her feet snugly under the blanket Mrs. Nolan must have supplied earlier. “Can you even guess?” 

There was a mischievous glint in the old woman’s eyes; a flicker of something that worried Emma – surely Mrs. Lucas had not allowed the widow to bring any of her extensive weapon collection to tea? 

“Indeed – I cannot –“ 

“I’ll not let Alexandra crow too high – what with her ball and grand trip to Bath! And it is within my power to offer something I’d consider to be much better for a young woman coming out into society. Next winter: I shall host you in London! My first husband left me a very smart townhouse off high street – my second funding for grand carriages and dresses and delights! I fully intend to spoil you rotten and indulge any and every fancy –“ 

“I could not impose –“ 

“Of course you can! You simple must consent – or I shall go behind your back and secure your parents permission. Come now: you’d be doing me a favor; keeping me company and active for the season. We’d go to balls, concerts, and play – you’d dance with handsome young men and tell me my fill of their idiocy and defeats of character! Why – it would be perfect! Seventeen is exactly the perfect age to be experiencing the intrigue and romances of London. A pretty young thing like you by my side: I’d say we can steal the town; have them all groveling at our feet. What say you to that?” 

Emma excitedly nodded her consent, “I say it’s a deal! Next year we’ll take over London!” 

“Have them all at our feet,” Mrs. Talbot repeated, patting the top of Emma’s hand. “Have them all at our feet!”


	7. Mrs. Mills Arrives - and Departs!

“Mint,” Johanna repeated; rubbing the leaves gently with her thumb. A sweet smell was released in the larder. Emma tilted her head as she regarded the plant – Eva quickly studying the herb before turning her attention back to her pencil renderings. 

“Mint cures hiccups, sure enough. Also pleasant with teas and cakes,” the housekeeper schooled before moving to hang the spring of mint over their heads; to dry and last the winter. 

They’d helped Johanna harvest the Nolan’s modest garden days earlier. 

Mama was indisposed yet again – in her bedroom recovering from a headache that never seemed to ease.

Reverend Nolan was entertaining Leo in his study; games after games of chess and soldiers. Anna had claimed an interest in gardening after breakfast but didn’t last long before, covered in mud, Astrid led her upstairs for a warm bath – fearing little Anna Nolan would catch cold if left damp and muddy for too long. 

Anna’s delight at tossing dirt clods at her sisters and the family’s lifelong housekeeper hadn’t warmed her case when she begged her papa to let her stay outdoors. A quick negative from Reverend Nolan before she was marched up the stairs by Astrid. 

“Now – that’s lavender, that is,” Johanna cooed. “Used to sew bits of this in your pillows when you were wee things – did the same for your mother as well.” 

“I like that smell,” Eva declared when Johanna released the smell again; rubbing the graying leaves fondly. 

“In my village, girls used to use lavender in their wedding bouquet – that and whatever wildflowers were in season. Maids used to take pieces of the bouquet home and sleep with them under their pillows. Silly old tradition, I say! Fools used to think you’d dream of your future husband – “ 

“So you tried it,” Emma teased as she passed a bushel of lavender for Johanna to hang. 

“Course I did,” Johanna declared loudly. “Why do you think I never married! Spinsterhood was a far better fate than that old coot –“ 

A sudden rapping came from the side window overlooking the garden. A bonnet bobbing up and down; golden ringlets bouncing as Alexandra Thomas jumped through the air; waving them towards the exit. 

“I have so much to tell,” Alexandra screeched through the window. “Come and see! Come and see!” 

Leaving their aprons with Johanna, Eva and Emma stopped to grab bonnets and shawls before joining Alexandra in the late autumn afternoon. 

“There is such a sight to be seen,” Alexandra boasted as she led the Nolan girls up the lane. “I’ve never seen such commotion at Snow Peak – the entire village is in an uproar! Mrs. Blanchard’s mother arrived from the continent… of course you two must know all about that bit of intrigue!” 

Hating to own to her complete ignorance of the topic, Emma baited Alexandra’s chatter on, “Did Mrs. Blanchard’s mother bring a great deal for her visit?” 

“A great deal? We are all assuming her stay a fixed transfer! Boxes upon boxes – mama and I had our noses against the parlor window; watching as the carriages passed!”

Emma knew very little about the mother of her grandfather’s wife – but suspected a grand display of wealth and consequence aligned well with what she knew after a lifetime with the daughter!

“It seems almost unfair to be leaving when Castleshire is finally having a stir but – alas – Bath awaits! Grandfather arrived for my ball, of course. And will book no refusal that I am to return with him before the snow sets in – “ 

“How was the ball,” Eva, good-naturedly, prompted; sensing Alexandra shift in interest instantly. 

“I danced every dance,” Eva swooned; twirling her skirts about in display of her grace. “Grandfather even brought his finest officers to ensure I never had to sit out of the merriment. Father insisted on the first dance – but then some officers begged me. And August. Young Gold as well! Both of them enjoyable enough partners – but not so dashing or graceful as others, I found! - Lord! I forgot! Sir Archibald closed the dance with me! Man should be banned from the dance floor! Was utterly ridiculous with his long legs and red hair –“

“I’m sure he meant well,” Emma interrupted; craning her neck to see if Snow Peak was visible over her companion yet. 

“Oh! I’m sure he did! But – poor man – made himself a very fool!” 

Stopping in her tracks, Emma turned to glare at the other young woman; declaring, “I highly doubt a man with such gentlemanly behavior -ingrained into his very being -could ever be considered a ‘fool’.” 

“Lord, Emma! There’s no need to be so very severe! I was only telling you news! A lark, really! Nothing to be so perplexed about! Mama had the officers to tea yesterday and they all agreed with me. We decided that is what the older generation is about: what is gentlemanly and refined. But we younger folk shalt be drawn in to that poppy-cock! No indeed!” 

With a flourish of curls, Alexandra resumed her walk down the lane completely immune to any past tension; lost in her own little world of silly delights - missing Emma’s comment to Eva, 

“Sounds like quite a ‘meeting of the minds’ for tea.” 

Eva bit down on her lip to prevent a laugh from escaping; ushering Emma forward. 

“Come now! You want to see this great lady’s menagerie of luggage as much as I do! Did you know anything about this?” 

“Nothing, though I’m loath to admit it. I knew Mrs. Blanchard’s mother had to leave England decades ago because of some scandal –“ 

“How shocking,” Eva exclaimed. “Do you know the details?”

“No – I think Grandfather did much to ensure it all quieted years ago. I know the name is Mills. Not connected by birth to anyone of large import. A gentleman’s wife – but hardly a gentleman’s daughter.”

“So, do you think she shall be a modest, wholesome woman? Gentle- mannered and not so –“

“Doubtful. I expect to find a woman whose vanity and self-interest is only matched by her offspring!” 

“Perhaps she is merely a realist,” Eva challenged. “Understanding that, for two lone women to survive –“

“You are going to support them? Take their side –“

“It’s not about sides, Emma. I… honestly! We know so little of the entire affair. How can we possibly pass judgment or blame when all we have are a handful of supposed events that happened before we were even born -” 

“Eva Nolan: the voice of goodness and reason,” Emma stopped in her tracks. Frozen on a hill overlooking the splendor of Snow Peak. Even on such a cold day, the sunlight struck the polished, white stones of the house in just that way to glisten against the graying countryside. But it was the seven carriages in front of the house that truly gave her pause. 

“I told you,” Alexandra triumphed. “Didn’t I just – and look at those horses!”

“They must have come with Mrs. Mills from France,” Eva observed. “And those carriages are certainly not English craftsmanship!” 

“You are both missing the most intriguing detail in my opinion,” Emma smirked down at the servants; moving from carriages to house like rows of ants at work. When both turned to her, eyebrows raised in question, Emma explained, 

“They aren’t carrying Mrs. Mills belongings in – they’re carrying more packages out.” 

After a hasty goodbye to Alexandra; filled with half-hearted promises to write from both Miss Thomas and Miss Nolan, Eva and Emma raced back to Ivy Cottage; nearly running into Mr. Gold in the doorway. 

Mr. Gold motioned them inside; muttering under his breath. From the parlor, Young Gold’s head emerged beckoning them inside. 

Stationed by the fire were Mrs. Gold and Mrs. Nolan; seated, with heads bent over for private conversation.

Emma noted her father pacing the length of the room – joined shortly by Mr. Gold when he reentered the room. Both men carrying shift shoulders as the marched back and forth – leaving Emma to wonder if they would form rivets in the Indian rug.

“We’re having ourselves a bit of a war council this evening,” Young Gold quipped as he helped both of the Miss Nolans to the chaise. He bounded to the other side of the room when Mrs. Gold motioned for him – returning with tea and cakes for both the young women; taking a seat to Emma’s left as he sipped his own. 

Only after Miss Nolan took a long sip of her tea did he turn to face her; his nose twitching as he animatedly exclaimed, “I suppose you are dying to know what has transpired –“ 

“I’d wager I have more of it solved than you –“

“Oh – I doubt so,” Young Gold declared; seeming far too pleased with himself. 

Emma squared her shoulders; sitting straight and proud as she casually chanced, “I know that Mrs. Blanchard’s mother has arrived from France.”

Young Gold was unimpressed; his mouth opening in a lopsided grin – eager to prove himself – but Emma would have none of it. Quickly, she beat him to the true essence of their parents meeting.

“And I know that they are not long for Castleshire. That Mrs. Blanchard will shortly be joining her mother on some extravagance – I shall guess not bond for the continent?” 

“No indeed,” Young Gold replied; put off at not being the source of such news. “Not for the continent.”

“So, one would hazard a guess at where a wealthy, young widow – not yet out of mourning – would travel with her dear mama? Where in England?”

“But surely,” Eva interrupted, “it would be indecent for her to be seen in society not even a year –“

“Clever you are, Miss Eva,” Young Gold cheered. “Most indecent, indeed! However, I doubt either’s motivations will be fixed on seeking out society.” 

“London, then,” Emma announced with upmost certainty; smiling over her tea cup at her own cleverness – even when Young Gold did not voice his praise as he had for Eva, Emma found pride in his eyebrows raising in surprise; admiration in his eyes when he nodded. 

“So it would seem,” he provoked. “But –seeing how clever the Miss Nolans’ are – I’m sure you’ll have the rest sorted. I’ll just relax and enjoy more cakes –“ 

“No indeed,” Emma challenged. “As a guest, it is your duty – being as we are in polite society – to contribute to the conversation at hand! And, if you have more on the subject to supply, I insist that you – “ 

“You really are quite a taxing hostess, Miss Nolan – “ 

“So there is more to know!” 

“If, as a humble guest, I must supply conversation – certainly you’d like to hear of the ball!” 

“What are you not telling us!” 

“A dazzling affair, to be sure. And the pudding was admirable – not so fine as what I’ve enjoyed in the Nolan household – but a fine achievement.”

“Must I interrupt our fathers to actually learn news?”

“ – I’m quite sure I’d strained my ankle during a quadrille; far too spiny, those are! Almost had to cancel the next morning – for I was invited to hunt with the Booths the day next –“

“I declare, Eva! The next we’ll hear of his answering correspondences from London while breaking his fast with hardboiled eggs this morning – “ 

“Actually, it was a bit of bread and cheese –“ 

With great resolve, Emma lifted her skirts above her ankle; angling her foot to fiercely collide with the leg of their ‘guest.’ 

When a yelp escaped Young Gold’s mouth, Reverend Nolan and Mr. Gold ceased their pacing and whispered conversation; turning to their children with concern. Emma Nolan, after years of siblings, was quick to adjust herself; skirts delicately draped over her figure and demurely stirring her tea as she glanced at Young Gold with mock concern. 

“That,” Young Gold whispered under his breath, “That, Miss Nolan, was uncalled for - ”

The parents were once again in their own worlds; a moment’s more hesitation from Mr. Gold – but, from his raised brow, the man seemed to have accepted just another oddity from his son before resuming his paces with Reverend Nolan. 

“Well now,” Emma prompted. “Are you going to start playing nicely? Honestly: if you had not more to tell, we had better just send you off to play with the children! I’m sure Leo would be thrilled.” 

“I’m sure I would be in lesser danger in Leo’s care than in here – alas! Miss Eva here has been a perfect lady! Would be a shame to deny one sister my knowledge just because the other has such a violent temper –“

“A violent temper? I have no such –“

“Don’t get me wrong; there are elements of your disposition not wholly unbecoming –“ 

Emma moved to kick him again; but Young Gold adjusted his long legs quickly to right it. 

“Now, Miss Eva, I have it on very good authority –“

“Your father’s, I assume,” Emma muttered frazzled. 

“Just so,” Young Gold agreed, nodding to acknowledge Emma’s assumption. “Miss Nolan, it would seem that your Grandmother, through marriage, and her mama, through… birth, have rented a most fashionable house at a most fashionable address in London. And, as you have already unearthed, will be transferring to such address forthwith! It would also appear, based on a letter my father received just this afternoon, that the lawyer they’ve secured has been doing much work on the case. A Glass, if I recall rightly.” 

Taking a deep breath, Young Gold continued, “In such cases as these – family disputes and the like – it is not so uncommon that they take years; most are resolved internally before ever making it to trial.” 

“I suppose it’s safe to assume that, when dealing with such cases as these, they do not occur when all parties are in mourning – out of respect –“

“It is some uncommon circumstances and events indeed, Miss Nolan. But the case will be heading for trial within the fortnight. My father has fixed that I am to ride back at first light tomorrow and start our defensive – the rest following when they can.”

Lost in thought, Eva excused herself; moving towards a table in the far corner to seemingly work on some sketchings. 

Emma stared towards the fireplace; noticing now how pale her mother was. What had appeared to be two friends conspiring when she entered – now, it was clear that Mrs. Gold was comforting Mrs. Nolan. 

When Emma turned her attention to her father and Mr. Gold, there was a fire in both men’s eyes that she’d failed to glimpse before.

“Don’t fret,” a voice whispered in her ear. Brown eyes stared down at her.

Neither herself or Young Gold moved to rearrange themselves on the chaise – to utilize the extra space Eva had left. Their sides were almost touching. Young Gold’s knee pressing against her’s as his legs swung back and forth – what seemed such an innocent, absentminded gesture for his part. 

Part of her was amazed he had not moved to kick her back, however a lark he would have made such an act.

But the playfulness seemed gone.

Young Gold’s act of foolish, young man was thrown once more and all Emma found when she looked back at him was earnestness; a warming intensity of purpose and person. 

“I have learned, Miss Nolan – however painful it may be, that we cannot dictate the actions of others; nor are we always to understand why they act in such… peculiar ways. The very best we can manage, at the end of the day, is to be true to ourselves and do what we think right… so, you see, it’s best not to fret over someone else’s actions and motives -”  
“That’s all well and good: however - difficult when you are the one to pick up the pieces and keep those you love afloat,” Emma noted; nodding towards Mrs. Nolan. Looking back to the young man next to her, Emma found herself more confused with the close proximity; unsure why her hands were fidgeting and her collar felt too hot. Worse so – she suspected a color rising in her face. 

Was the fire too much? Should she send for Johanna to right it? Or prompt her mother to sit not so near? 

“Forgive me, sir,” Emma addressed stiffly; moving herself as close to the edge of the chaise as possible. “I know you mean well. It’s only… I do not like the toll this estrangement has taken out in my mother. She feels this rift in our family most acutely. With that, I cannot help myself in wanting to know – to understand why someone would act in such a way; and to be spiteful – even vengeful – at the cause of such pain.” 

“Protecting those you love – it’s actually very admirable from my perspective.”

“You understand then,” Emma commented with hope. 

“Naturally I do,” Young Gold said with a laugh. “I’ll even own it’s impossible to live under my assumption of peace all the time. I’m capable of as much vengefulness and spitefulness as the next person! But- pray, Miss Nolan, as you come out into this society: not everything has a purpose or answer –“ 

“Says the shifty – solicitor,” Emma joked with a laugh.

“Yes - another good life lesson: never trust a solicitor!” 

Emma was biting her lip; trying to control the smile that, against her will, beamed back at Young Gold – but it failed. The poor young man was coming in contact with Emma Nolan’s most pleasing, heartfelt gleam – and seemed most struck by the effect; opening his mouth and closing it several times before Emma decided to take control of the conversation… but in vain. 

Mr. Gold cleared his throat; announcing his household’s need to vacate the Nolan’s cottage and head out into the night. 

Emma felt herself quite put-out; managing to make her farewells – a pleasing surprise in the end! 

Young Gold’s eyes mischievously darted from her to a brown book that had found it’s way into the room – Emma certain not one of her family’s collection.

“My dear new mama would book no refusal – she says The Mysteries of Udolpho has been in my keeping too long and, so she asserted, it has been promised onto you for several months.” 

“Indeed it has,” Emma triumphed; pleased to find something agreeable from this parting. “Quite selfish of you to keep it so long! Was it such a difficult read for you?”

“I read it, straight through, with my hair standing on end! Scared me witless at times – but had to reread it over and over again, always the same effect!”

With a final bow and curtsey, as their parents looked on, Young Gold moved out the Nolan’s door and helped Mrs. Gold into the carriage. With a final exchange between papa and Mr. Gold, Emma watched as the carriage rolled out onto the dimming landscape; just as the winter’s first snow started to fall.


	8. A Winter Interlude: Mysteries of an Artist

The days seemed to become longer as the cold settled over Castleshire. 

And society continued to dwindle. 

Alexandra was off in Bath – August departed days after the Golds; off to report for his commission in the south. From there – the Americas!

The fresh naval officer boasted as much to Emma the eve of his departure. 

The Somers Isles being one of the many names he listed off to wet Miss Nolan’s interest. But – he also claimed Siam on route; leaving Emma to ponder the possibility of her old friend actually knowing where he was to be adventuring. It seemed much more likely they’d be keeping up with the man’s travels thanks to post markings on letters to his papa than his knowledge and presentation. 

Still, Emma was envious! Of both Alexandra and August – at an age with her and off into the world all at once!

Adventure! Travels! 

And warmth!

Perhaps she was more envious of August in that regard as she stood in front of the window; adjusting her shawl in hopes of a bit more shelter from the bitter wind hitting against the cottage.

It was the traditional Castleshire winter. When the snows start, any hopes for moderate days were lost until spring. 

Finding herself bored one late afternoon, watching another blizzard shroud the gray valley, Emma tried to imagine elsewhere. 

What would Alexandra be doing in Bath? Still sleeping away from the night before? Or some grand luncheon and frivolity? A concert? Maybe a ball late this evening? 

Where did August find himself now? Surely some place warm – with color! Bright, sumptuous colors! In the landscape, the people, and the clothes.

More likely, he was still at sea; such tropical locations still unknown to his eyes. But surely the waters would supply an array of hues besides whites and grays. 

Emma released a coarse sigh as she lugged back to the chaise, wisely passing her tangled-mess of embroidery left thrown atop the table – she’d simply have to take the thing apart again, she rationalized; fingers instead dancing along the spine of the novel Mrs. Gold had left behind. Months ago, Emma had announced she’d be savoring the novel; reading slowly so to last the winter! And received much praise from both her parents on the mature choice; Mr. Nolan even offering to supplement her reading with ‘steady’ choices of religious, philosophical, and scientific literature – all admirable in balancing the fiction, he was sure! Only if Emma could be steadfast with such ‘steady’ readings – which she never could! 

When Emma slipped the novel into her lap on the chaise, Mrs. Nolan – long been watching her elder daughter’s antics from across the room – raised an eyebrow in question. 

“Have you finished your needlework for the day, Emma,” Mrs. Nolan asked demurely; trying to hide a smile as she tied off a thread on her own project. 

Calmly, Emma asserted, “After much deliberation, and as much as it truly pains me, I am resolved that both my embroidery and myself need time apart. Therefore: I’m leaving it to it’s own devises – and I: I simply must find out the newest misery of Emily St. Aubert!” 

“Dear me! What has occurred now –“ 

“Count Morano has tried, once again, to kidnap her; to compromise her honor and force Emily into marriage! And, once again, the man has failed laughably! How hard is it to abduct a young woman? Has the man really even been trying –“

“Emma -,” Mrs. Nolan cautioned; nodding to Eva painting in a far corner. Least the elder sister’s humor corrupts the younger’s innocent ears! 

“Of course I see this as troubling behavior, mama! And how no gentleman should ever attempt – but if the man in question is meant to be a deplorable rake: surely he can try to be a bit more effective –“ 

“Emma!”

“If being licentious and greedy is one’s only character traits: at least give us fair maids something to fight against!” 

“Don’t ever let your father hear you talking in such a manner!“

“Mama – you know I’m teasing!”

“Naturally! However, you father might not. And you may yet find yourself shipped off to some lone French convent for the rest of your youth! As fashionable as these gothic romances are –“ 

“I think that’s an excellent start, there! The lovely English girl trapped in a dilapidated convent in France. Assert a old, wrinkly Duke trying to abduct her in the night and a blind shepherd -of shocking family background - saving her honor; – Mama! I think we have the next famed novel on our hands!”

Dissolving into fits of laughter, Emma and Mrs. Nolan had to conclude plotting their epic when Astrid entered; requesting Mrs. Nolan for Johanna in the kitchen. 

Eva, ever diligent, had not looked up from her painting in the corner – leaving Emma a bit put-out at finding no comrade to continue plotting her tale with. 

But what an idea! To be a female novelist! In truth a much more tempting opportunity, Emma decided, between spinsterhood or marriage. Oh! And being a governess! Certainly Ann Radcliffe had a most exciting life than the wife, the spinster, or the governess combined! 

Deciding herself to be the next famed authoress of Britain, Emma open the novel – and a small sheet of parchment slipped out from the final pages of the book. Emma scrunched her nose in confusion as she reached to retrieve the parchment from the floor – it was thin. Scrap in all truth. But revealed a truly breathtaking sketch. 

In pencil, areas towards the edges fading away – Emma uncertain if it was deliberate of the artist or happenstance – was a rendering of a daisy. Probably not the most exciting of flowers in Emma opinion – yet it looked so charming on the page. Someone had managed to make the flower look as dignified and elegant as a rose… 

But whose hand captured it? The artist of the family was seated across the room - 

“Eva, I thought I asked you not to start Udolpho until I was finished –“

Emma was shocked that Eva had been reading it unobserved – but had passed her by chapters! Had Eva snuck the novel out at night when the rest of the Nolans were asleep? 

Without looking up from her painting, in a bored voice, Eva replied, “And I have not. As ridiculous of a request as it was, given as you are ‘savoring’ it for months on end, I have restrained.” 

Emma was about ready to cross the room and place the drawing of the daisy under Eva’s nose; to demand to know the artist – but something willed her to school herself. Instead of the outburst that felt so much more natural to her, Emma tucked the sketch back into the book.

As calm as possible, she placed the closed novel on the chaise and crossed the room to look down upon Eva’s work. 

The colors she’d been lamenting the loss of were found in Eva’s watercolors. All scenes of Castleshire. The estates. The church – all in a style differing from the daisy she’d been so captivated of. 

“These are lovely, Eva,” Emma praised her sister; and they truly were. While absent of people – Eva not comfortable yet in capturing their neighbors and friends likenesses – they were charming scenes. It felt like being at a picnic or party. Bright, summer gardens and green fields – suddenly, the estate let by the Gold’s caught Emma’s attention. The bold reds of the roses and zinnia had been the focal point of Mrs. Gold’s garden. But there was a hint of daisies by the far gate – 

As casually as she could, Emma chanced, “Does Mrs. Gold draw? I cannot recollect if she mentioned it or not –“ 

“I think not,” Eva answered. “She was so kind about me drawing in her garden but said she has not the eye for it. Nor ‘fingers’ I think she joked as well!”

A dead-end. Although confused, Emma patted her sister on the shoulder before heading back to the chaise. “It is very good work, Eva. I’m sure everyone will be pleased to see how you’ve captured Castleshire – you might have an exhibition this spring so we can see them all together.” 

Eva beamed with pride. “Mrs. Gold was so taken with the drawing, I promised her a watercolor to hang in their library. Not this one, I think. The shadows are a bit off –“ 

“Only you will be fussing about shadows. The rest of us only see beauty in the work!” 

Finally sitting to indulge in the Mysterious of Udolpho, Emma Nolan tried to bury her own mystery: the unknown artist and their daisy. Whoever could they be?


	9. Spring Settlements

One morning in late spring, Emma thought nothing when she volunteered to take herbs to the Lucas’. Although the good Doctor denied Johanna’s concoctions having any legitimate medical standing, the Widow Talbot insisted it was a necessity for her wellness! More so, Emma was enticed by the promise of a long walk now that the weather was so fine again!

The trip through the countryside proved to be as pleasing as she’d imagined – more so when she reached the destination and, once received by Mrs. Talbot herself, was quickly ushered into the back of the Lucas’ garden; where the widow had targets mounted for practice.

As her visits to the Lucas’ usually went, Mrs. Talbot insisted on teaching Emma how to fire one of the widow’s former husbands’ firearms.

Of husbands, Mrs. Talbot boasted six. Something that Emma found hard to believe possible.

“I started way too young,” the widow joked. “And acquired quite a taste for them. They’re all loveable fools – life much easier without them! But so amusing! And, naturally, I had to have a taste for the adventuring sort – they don’t give much longevity, truth be told. Would you believe all but two died of some strange, tropical disease?”

“And the other two,” Emma inquired; raising the pistol and taking aim at the more challenging target.

“One was eaten by a tiger in India!”

Emma lowered her arm; turning to stare at the older woman behind her.

“Truly?”

“Well – mauled and partially eaten by said tiger. His officers retrieved enough for us to have a proper funeral of sorts.”

“And the last one,” Emma asked; turning to her target once again. Aligning her gaze before firing – a fatal point if the target breathed!

“Well done, Emma! … Ah! Lugosi! My Hungarian-love! Thanks to my first few husbands by that point, I was able to cause quite a stir. He was younger, foreign, titled – though dirt-poor! .. spoke very little English. For all the excitement of that match, the end was too dull. My Hungarian count fell from a horse here in England; foxhunting of all things”

The sound of the gun’s release and the gray smoke of the gunpowder had alerted the household that Miss Nolan wasn’t simply assisting Mrs. Talbot in her daily constitutional – Mrs. Lucas raced from the house, skirts raised in her fists, to chastise her grandmamma.

“Really! Mary Margaret will never allow her children in my charge again should she hear –“

“I won’t tell,” Emma chanced. But her statement went ignored!

“ – And those guns are too old! Older than me! What would you do if they backfired and little Miss Nolan shot- dead!”

“The footman stores them in a safe location – no moisture. And cleans my weapons almost daily!”

“Grandmamma –“

“These weapons are true artistry! If Napoleon had not been stopped – these guns would have saved your family's lives when the French marched into Castleshire!”

In the end, Emma was sent home. With tea and cakes in her belly - Mrs. Lucas insisted as much.

Nearing her family’s cottage, the first note that something was amiss had been the absence of her siblings’ voices in the yard.

When neither Anna or Leo had attacked from the bushes at the gate, she finally noticed the lone horse standing in the drive. Quickening her pace, Emma reached for the door handle – as a tall figure moved to exit the cottage.

Startled, Emma drew back – finding the figure to be no other than Young Gold!

More travel-worn than even the first time she’d met the man – more tired as well. Deep, dark circle outlined his eyes. Emma found herself lamenting at first how the creases seemed to diminish what she remembered to have been such fine eyes – but quickly buried such foolish inclinations!

But was difficult! When she forced her eyes from his face – she had to note the man in some state of undress. A proper lady, she was certain, would not be quite so aware of his untied cravat. His throat so visible that Emma watched as it contracted when Young Gold gulped; watching with a strange fascination that knew no propriety. She had to assure herself it was an innocent curiosity – and that was all.

“ – Miss Nolan,” Young Gold stammered; remembering himself much quicker than she. A stiff bow – a wobble in the end of it had Emma fearing he was about to faint! But he corrected himself, sure enough – finding his balance again with a sheepish smile on his face.

Emma returned a curtsy; fast and sharp. Hoping it would make up for any early hesitation on her part in the exchange.

“Mr. Gold,” she greeted. Pausing before inquiring, “Are you unwell?”

“Quite well,” he assured her. The rasp of his voice leaving her some doubt on that matter- but she smiled all the same.

“My father has sent me straight from London on an urgent matter… And – if you will forgive me – I must return now to pass along your father’s reply.”

With a another bow, Young Gold stepped away – heading back to the horse that looked almost as wretched as its rider.

“Wait – “ Emma called back to him. “You cannot be seriously about to ride all the way back to London! I’m sure my parents would allow you to stay the night –“

“Mrs. Nolan did offer - but I have business that cannot wait –“

“That’s foolishness! Stay for dinner at least – what good can leaving now do if you fall off your horse and break your neck?”

Emma thought he looked almost tempted; and was very well about to feel victorious until Young Gold shook his head the negative.

“I am sorry to decline your hospitality, Miss Nolan – but even an hour could mean all the difference on this matter. For my father especially!”

Emma watched as Young Gold shakenly mounted his horse – about ready to argue her case again but knew a losing battle lay in front of her.

“Are you – can we expect your father and step-mother returning soon to the neighborhood? Now that the season is nearing an end in Town?”

There! – for a moment beneath the dirt and exhaustion – Emma found the lopsided grin she recalled from the summer. The bright eyes resurfaced as Young Gold assured her, “All of us Golds will be returning within the month! From what I’ve heard, Sir Archibald is hosting a ball midsummer –“

Her coming-out ball. She couldn’t control her wide smile as Young Gold rode away; nor the giddy feeling that he’d return. Sooner rather than later!

Caught in her own pleasure, an insistent tugging on her gown sleeve brought her back to reality; to the quiet garden and Young Gold’s sudden arrival and departure.

Looking down, Emma found it was little Sophia tugging on her gown; eyes pleading for attention – doll, as always, firmly in her other hand.

“Mama is crying,” Sophia murmured looking frightened; hoping her elder sister will supply the correct remedy.

Emma made sure to keep a calm demeanor to reassure Sophia – her hand running through the younger girl’s curls as she asked, “And where is mama right now, Sophia?”

Instead of directly answering, Sophia clutched her doll tighter and pointed at the opposite end of the garden – to a little path Emma knew the destination of all too well. _Snow Peak_.

“Why don’t you head back inside, Sophia? See if Johanna needs help in the kitchen – maybe get a tart or sweetie?”

Heading towards the cottage, Sophia paused at the door.

“Will mama be alright, Emma?”

With a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, Emma assured her little sister their mama quite well.

“I’m sure a nice walk before supper and all will be well – now go harass Johanna for a sweet! Quick- or Leo may have them all!”

As soon as Sophia back in the cottage, Emma picked up her skirts to follow the winding path towards Snow Peak.

On the hill overlooking the grand manor stood a small figure – wisps of dark hair moving in the breeze. For a moment, Emma hardly knew her. Her mama had never looked this pale – her eyes glazed over as if this fragile being was lost in another lifetime; somewhere far removed from their current world.

Emma moved to touch her shoulder; to spark something of reminiscence in the blank woman before her.

“Mama – mama? What has happened? Should I fetch papa? Johanna? - Mama!”

Emma watched as the hazel eyes she’d inherited awoke again – Mrs. Nolan gently patting Emma’s hand in return; reassuring that she was aware now as her tongue worked to catch up.

“It is my fault,” her mama confide. “I am to blame for this – for everything!”

“What could you possibly mean? Come now – I think you the least to blame in just about everything!”

“I was still such a girl when I met her – she was everything I wanted. Like a fancy doll! A week of knowing her and I’d instructed my maidservant to fix my hair in the fashion that seemed so charming on ‘the Miss Mills’ the evening before! I followed her about parties; mimicking this and that. Truth be told – I think I was too young for society; my father too indulgent at times.”

Emma moved to grasp her mother’s hand when tears began to flow from Mrs. Nolan’s eyes.

“I did not know – how could I have! I was a child of thirteen! Only a couple years younger than Miss Mills… my father said we were to depart; to continue our travels to Germany. I begged him that I not have to part with Miss Mills – pleaded that we could offer her so much! I sang her praises: noted how lovely she played – and did such skill and passion not deserve to hear concerts in Germany by true masters! When my tone-deaf ears could boast such delights – why not hers?”

“Mama,” Emma cautioned. “What are you admitting too?”

Any sort of deviousness seemed far beyond the sweet-natured woman, the beloved mother, standing before Emma!

Mrs. Nolan cleared her throat; turning away from her child in shame.

“ – I did not think father had any inclination to marry again. We were happy, I thought -just the two of us – and, spoiled child that I was, I fancied he would never want or need anything other than me: the perfect daughter! I promise: I only meant to obtain Miss Mills as a lady’s companion; to have her teach me how to fix my hair the stylish ways and keep me company. I hinted to him. I hinted the prospect to Miss Mills. Received from both ends that it would be a pleasing arrangement – and thought that was that! Orchestrated beautiful by my thirteen year old self! My father, however, seemed to think the hints a bit more domestic. Of course, now I understand the want for male issue must have been tempting but I’m certain Miss Mills understood me seeking a traveling companion and confidant only –“

“How old was Mrs. Blanchard – Miss Mills, then?”

“Fifteen, I believe. Of course, it’s not that uncommon. A widower of forty-odd years marrying a fifteen year old girl. But I must admit guilt in setting up the acquaintance that I feel destroyed the life of the ‘fancy doll’ I had so admired!”

“Mama –“

“And tis worse! After my father announced his intentions, I overheard Mrs. Mills pressuring her daughter – I heard Miss Mills begging to not have to marry my father! Turned out - she was in love with a soldier! A French radical with no family or connections but oh – did Miss Mills love him! Napoleon had only just come to power – Although I was unaware of any monetary agreement made prior to marriage between my father and the Mills’, I was aware she had no wish to marry my father, loved another, and – the worst yet – she was set to run off with her French soldier!”

“What happened then – did she change her mind? The temptation of money and standing back in England too strong?”

With a frown, Mrs. Nolan declared, “Not at all, my dear. I think she would have lived anywhere, done anything, with her soldier and never regretted it a day of her life. The biggest regret of my life will always be that I became aware of their plans to runaway… and I told her mother.”

Emma retracted her hand from her mother as if burned; shocked by the newest detail.

“Why? Why did you tell Mrs. Mills? If you knew Miss Mills did not want any part of this –“

“I was such a silly child,” Mrs. Nolan pleaded. “Believe me: I know that does not absolve me of the crime but it’s the best reason I’ve come up with in these many years! My understanding of the world was so sheltered and askew – I truly thought Miss Mills better off. My assessment had been: here lies a beautiful creature that has been cast off from England; roaming a foreign country - virtually penniless! What kindness any connection with my family would be! And – seeing how pleasing my father was to me – surely affection and love will come later for her! And we could be a happy family; traveling to all the fashionable places in Europe together! And, more selfishly, I knew this was a way to have her as mine; to not only have a shiny doll of mine own – but a mother! That she could be a friend and mother to me – after years of little womanly affection – I refused to think this life would be anything less than ideal for all involved.”

“And what happened? To the French soldier?”

“ – He passed away long ago…”

“How,” Emma demanded; possibly too firmly - for Mrs. Nolan jumped.

“I do not know the details. I just remember this black ribbon she wore – for years after the wedding. And the silver pen that ran through it; a miniature rode a warhorse into battle – rapier in hand – atop the pen. I thought it some type of French fashion and one day begged her to borrow it for a concert. She refused and I throw a tantrum – it was a huge mess! She ended up screaming at me about him; how she wore it in memoriam of him…”

Mrs. Nolan’s voice died out. No sound remaining but the wind and both women’s study breathes.

“ – Mama, what happened today?”

“My prayers have finally been answered. I have been atoned for my sins against Mrs. Blanchard - ..in the way more painful to me: that it be taken from my daughters and not me myself. The case has been found in her favor. The money intended for you girls will be hers. All of your dowries will be more than halved –“

“But the estate is safe,” Emma chanced; taking her mother’s hand in her own. “Snow Peak will thrive again. Snow Peak will be Leo’s – “

“Yes,” Mrs. Nolan agreed with a sad smile. “Snow Peak will continue to stand for later generations.”

“And I can assume papa’s living secure?”

“Yes. My portion of the inheritance lost, of course, but the church and living are still in your father’s name. I may have something entailed in my mother’s line when all the papers looked over – that I’m sure I can transfer to your dowry if need be!”

“Calm yourself! The important things we still have. And certainly don’t fret on my account! With my musical, sewing, and conversational skills: I’ll make sure to trap a rich fool that will agree to waving any bride-price and you need only focus on Eva, Anna, Sophia, and May – I suggest the largest bulk on Anna since she’s a wild beast, to be sure –“

“ – Please be serious for once, Emma.”

“I am, mama. We have the cottage. Father can continue giving his short sermons in his little church. Your ancestral home will not be dismantled stone by stone – and Johanna has cooked something wondrous for supper as usual, I’m sure. Life is still good for us Nolans, in my opinion.”

“And,” Mrs. Nolan croaked through tears. “What say you about… what I’ve done? Can you forgive me for being so –“

“It’s not my place to forgive in this situation. I am surprised by the tale,” Emma admitted. “But the cut in our dowries is not penance from God, mama! You have surely been punishing yourself enough. But I must ask: have you ever apologized to Mrs. Blanchard – discussed this past with her –“

“I’ve tried before but am quickly cut in return – I don’t think it likely to occur in either of our lifetimes now.”

Using her thumbs, Emma removed the dried tears from her mother’s cheeks.

“I think it’s time to head back to the cottage – Sophia will want to know you are well, mama.”

Both women turned; the younger's arm wrapped around her mother in support as they made their way back to the cottage. Both mother and daughter plastering smiles on their faces just in time; before the younger Nolan children raced out to greet them. Reverend Nolan watching from the doorway with his arms crossed. Emma noted a folded sheet of parchment between his fingers and how quickly his gaze traveled to the ground when she looked him straight in the eye.

With all the new information Emma Nolan was trying to make sense of in her head, she had to ponder what else remained undisclosed in this assorted, family history.


	10. An Interlude to the Ball!

The melancholy that had enfolded Mrs. Nolan was buried as she threw herself, head first, into any and every intrigue Castleshire had to offer. 

Every event so carefully orchestrated – with Mrs. Nolan laughing and smiling about; there barely seemed a spare moment to be spent questioning anything, in Emma’s opinion. Her siblings were delighted by the picnics and gatherings! The neighbors’ praising the delightful Mrs. Nolan - their fair hostess! 

One evening, when the little Nolan’s where taken to bed and Emma remained in the drawing room, trying to manage some part of the construction of her first ball gown, she noticed some signs that all was not well. Where she’d been disposed to believe the scene on the hill overlooking Snowfall some phantom dream – nay, nightmare – concocted by too many sweets at the Lucas’, the firelight only cast deeper shadows on the few wrinkles her beautiful parents had earned through the years. 

Tonight, Papa was working on correspondences that had arrived with the evening post; he was removing his glasses and sighing almost every five minutes before flipping a page to the next disappointment. 

Watching her husband from across the room, Mama was not doing much better! Oh – her work was not suffering for it: like Emma’s was. Mrs. Nolan was constructing a beautifully intricate necking for the gown!

For her part, Emma now had Johanna rooted to her side; murmuring little corrections as Emma missed stitch after stitch – becoming frustrated with the entire scene. What were they not telling her? What more grave news were they shouldering – and she was no longer a child! She could bare it with them? Maybe help in some way – 

“Mr. and Mrs. Gold will be returning,” Reverend Nolan directed from behind his final letter. “Within the week if the man has it his way.”

“So soon,” his wife gasped. “Then surely they’ll need an invitation to the strawberry picking – and the ball! With Alexandra just returned and August set on leave, that will bring our numbers up quite well!” 

“Quite pleasing numbers, my dear, indeed.”

“It had always been their intentions of returning for the ball,” Emma declared; perhaps too loudly and with too much authority on the matter. Filled with shame, she at least had not slipped ‘my ball’ into the statement. 

Mrs. Nolan’s mouth was open, her head tilting as she regarded her daughter. 

“And yo – are you in correspondence with Mrs. Gold, Emma?” 

“Not at all –“ Papa had now set his letters to the side, watching Emma with curiosity. “Had not she said as much when she took her leave? In this very room, I think.”

It was a straight lie. But something told her to not indicate Young Gold as her source on the matter. The child in her rationalized if they were not ready to make her privy to what they’d discussed with the man – why should she?

“Oh,” Mrs. Nolan stammered; nodding quietly before continuing, “I think you are right – and I’ll boast my daughter the best memory in the county! I had not recalled Mrs. Gold present in the early stages of the ball but now I quite remember talking about it with herself and Sir Archibald present. I believe Mrs. Gold also suggested the overlaying of the fabric Grandmother Nolan sent with a light muslin – said you’d look so elegant with the contrast –“ 

Mrs. Nolan went so far as to hold up the skirt of the gown; showing the thin muslin glisten as it glided down her hand; the red-flowered embroidery draped over top. 

Revered Nolan seemed contented with the answer; rising to his feet and suggesting it was bedtime for the household. 

Emma stood and waited for her parents to exit; her papa stopping to place a kiss on her forehead, “My clever, young woman,” he praised as he left for bed. 

Mrs. Nolan followed; waiting for her husband to vacate the room before brushing her own lips against Emma’s forehead. 

“Indeed: a clever, little girl,” Mama agreed; looking her eldest child straight in the eye –parting with yet another frown etched on her face.

A silent understanding echoed between mother and daughter.

Mrs. Nolan was not so easily fooled. 

And from the soft clucking noise Johanna made as she ushered Emma upstairs to bed, she assumed Mrs. Nolan would find a confidant in the old housekeeper - could almost imagine them both huddled together and trying to uncover whatever was happening with Emma.

With a deep sigh, Emma wished she knew herself!


	11. The First Half of the Ball at Fields Abbey - Hosted by the Honorable Sir Archibald and Introducing Miss Nolan

Momma had made a spectacular scene, Emma decided as she floated into Sir Archibald’s ballroom; being escorted by the man himself.

Flowered garlands were draped across the walls – but Mrs. Nolan had not seemed capable of stopping there! Every space not otherwise occupied with candles, food, or drink had piles of flowers – the scent was dizzying as Emma was greeted by life-long neighbors and introduced to a mass of new faces.

Smile planted on her face, Emma feared she would not be capable of recalling so many names and faces as the minutes ticked on. The dancing had not even begun and she was ready to deem the affair a lost cause -

But she would dance every dance – Widow Talbot had made it known that Emma would be not outdone by Alexandra! Young men had been funneled in from all across the country – the Widow calling in every favor and scheme to ensure a supply of young men Castleshire had never seen before.

By the time Sir Archibald led her to the floor for the first dance, Emma had been engaged for every dance through to supper – with the luck of August as her supper-partner!

Sir Archibald was not a disagreeable partner – as Alexandra seemed so assured of. His lack of grace – and difficulty in recollecting the correct dancing sequence – were well forgotten thanks to his enthusiasm in each step; the older gentleman leaping just a bit higher than the rest of the dancers when the occasion called for it.

“It must be strange,” Emma remarked to Sir Archibald. “To have so many in your home this evening – and to have the Abbey so loud!”

Sir Archibald shook his head the negative; his spectacles almost flying off as he took Emma’s hands for a turn in the dance.

“Not at all,” he assured her. “The Abbey was made for this – I’m only sorry I can’t host such wild parties more often!”

The pride in the man’s eyes made Emma smile – to hear of the ‘wild parties’ occurring elsewhere in London and Bath, this ball was a respectful and subdue event. But Sir Archibald seemed to think himself the host of one – and Emma hoped no one corrected the man on this front! Let him think himself a proper rebel for a night!

After her dance with Sir Archibald, the sea of faces commenced. Fair of face. Dark hair. Light eyes. Tight or loose cravat. All seemed to blend together for her next hours of dancing. If lucky, her momma or the Widow Talbot would be near when a new partner came to claim his dance – both women careful to ensure Emma recalled her partners name before being led to the floor.  
That is not to say her partners were not agreeable. The majority proved much superior dancers to her first – some even to herself, truth be told! Some seemed to have a ready supply of wit – as much as a person can showcase while turning about and spinning in a warmed room; the flowers’ scent becoming overwhelming at times!

When her latest partner, a fair soldier, excused himself to claim Alexandra for his next partner, Emma moved to the long tables; searching for something to relieve her thirst – and found punch and Mrs. Gold on the other end!

“Are you enjoying yourself,” Mrs. Gold inquired; sipping her own punch as the two women turned to gaze at the musicians.

“Very much so,” Emma replied; noting Mrs. Gold alone. He husband long left for the card room and step-son so far unaccounted for. “Are you having a pleasant evening, Mrs. Gold?”

“I am, Emma.”

“And Mr. Gold?”

Mrs. Gold laughed, “He is as well as he can. My husband, Emma, is not the sort for large gatherings. And does not dance.”

“Are you dancing, Mrs. Gold?”

“Your father and Sir Archibald have been kind enough to oblige me – but I’m not much of a dancer myself.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Emma wondered if she could casually inquire over Young Gold in the moment – ask if he did not plan to also oblige in her dancing needs – until Alexandra came bounding up!

“Emma! Emma! You must hear this scheme!”

Alexandra’s grasped on August’s cuff; dragging him with her – the soldier Emma had danced with earlier followed behind.

“August fancies he can take us all to the sea! Can you imagine!”

Raising an eyebrow in challenge, Emma asserted, “And how does he think he can manage that?”

August boasted, “I am a Naval man – and my father’s carriage can just about hold five of us; if we cram –“

“A picnic,” Alexandra exclaimed; alight with excitement. “If we left early- sunrise – we could get to the coast, eat, and be back in Castleshire before night fall –“

“I’m not sure you two have the correct estimation of that distance – my grandfather said it took a day and a half to reach –“

“Oh, Emma! That was years ago! Carriages are much faster now,” Alexandra pleaded.

“And we can change horses at the crossing and be back on track in less than an hour,” August countered back.

“I think you are overthinking this, Emma,” Alexandra finished.

“I think you two are under thinking this. And who would go?”

“August. Me. You. Lieutenant Samuels, the dear! –“

“I have my own rig,” the soldier who followed them countered. “Fast little thing, too!”

Although his name and general conversation and interests escaped her, Emma was almost certain the soldier was not one ‘Lieutenant Samuels’.

“Of course you do, Colonel,” Alexandra cooed like to a child; patting his shoulder absentmindedly. “And I’m sure it’s a smashing rig –“

Now Emma knew the man was certainly not Lieutenant Samuels – nor someone being included in the scheme. His continued hovering over the scene answered only at the clear admiration in his eyes as he watched Alexandra jump up and down as she plotted with August.

“Mrs. Gold can be the chaperone – for I know you will pitch a fit, Emma, if we don’t have one and aren’t rigidly proper – even in exciting outings.”

“I do think it’s expected that a group of young, unmarried folk have someone watching over,” Mrs. Gold levelly tried; looking as if she wished to dissolve from the loudness and find refuge elsewhere.

“I suppose Young Gold could be the fifth then,” August challenged for his friend. “If the chap is present. Pray – is he here, Mrs. Gold? Mr. Gold claimed he was on business in the south early this week when I called –“

Emma had heard such a dissatisfying report herself.

“He is,” Mrs. Gold assured August. “Just arrived back this afternoon.”

“The man is always late,” August announced in mock annoyance; arms thrown out in the air for dramatic effect. “I’m amazed his new mother does not keep a firmer hold on him.”

“I’ve had the strange experience, Mr. Booth, of gaining a full-grown, matured son in less than a year – and I find it hard to enforce anything when I find him capable of monitoring his own needs so diligently.”

As soft and gentle as Mrs. Gold held herself; the darkness in once clear, blue eyes cautioned to not mess with her offspring – even if gained through an interchange of marriage instead of birth. Even August seemed to note this shadow as he steered the conversation back to lightheartedness; remarking over Emma and Mrs. Gold’s shoulders – “Speak of the devil: what say you to this marvelous scheme Miss Thomas and myself concocted? Your momma and Miss Nolan will have nothing but solid, sour facts where we wish to dream!”

Emma jumped when she realized whom August had called over; schooling herself to be nonchalant as she turned around and found Young Gold approaching.

He looked – as he usually did! Fine-featured: decidedly handsome, in Emma’s opinion. Not overly dressed - but crisp and clean. All black and dark shades – his shirt and cravat fastened with no room for error this time. An easy smile set as he quickly joined; making a quick apology for his tardiness.

Young Gold was all for the outing; remarking how he’d always loved the sea! After encouraging both Alexandra and August to distraction on the scheme, he stepped back to admire his work; standing next to Emma and Mrs. Gold.

“I hear you were in the south, Mr. Gold,” Emma started smoothly; hoping Mrs. Gold would intercede in their conversation – make everything a bit less awkward. But Mrs. Gold seemed to have diverted her attention to the musicians again; turning her shoulders away – almost supplying privacy for a conversation between Miss Nolan and her step-son.

Young Gold took a moment to respond; clearly his throat before answering, “Yes – I had some business in the south.”

“No bad news, I hope.” With the pace of the last year, Emma naturally assumed the matters had to be linked back to her family. “Has something happened for our case to send you to the south?”

“No,” Young Gold answered flatly. “The business wasn’t for your family, Miss Nolan.”

“Oh – I suppose it’s foolish to assume our family your only clients!”

“It… it was not a legal matter – not work for the firm.”  
There! Young Gold was back – a cheeky grin as he added, “And I assure you: your family may not be the firm’s only clients – but are one of our more favorites!”

That did the trick of pleasing Miss Nolan! Emma could feel a warmth flooding through her body – and really hoped the effects were not obvious in her cheeks.

If so – certainly the dancing and packed hall were probable causes of any coloration.

But the grin slipped as she regarded him; his nose wrinkling as he forced it back into place.

Emma was puzzled; recalling in the past Young Gold being so free and artless in his conversation –

“I am starting to wonder if you live some type of double-life. Always coming and going, so.”

“Nothing so interesting –“

“A highway man, I should think. There is something in your person a bit shifty; I think you could be a very successful thief if you put your mind to it –“

“I’ll have to alert my father that the wrong profession was chosen for me!”

His nose wrinkled again as he looked to the ground; raising his head back to look at Emma, “So I’m ‘shifty’, am I?”

“Terribly so,” Emma answered with a laugh. But then corrected herself, “Perhaps I am not using the right term for it – sly, maybe? Or mischievous? Both seem not so entirely offensive!”

“No,” laughed Young Gold. “I think I’ll stay with ‘shifty’. Your first assumption are usually correct, Miss Nolan – don’t try to sweeten the truth! I am one not easily deterred.”

Silence slipped into their conversation; both looking elsewhere intently. Mrs. Gold still stepped back from the pair – watching the musicians and not likely to return to help the conversation flow. Emma wondered if Mrs. Gold had been listening – surely she could hear from there –

“Pardon my rudeness Miss Nolan –“ Emma half expected to follow would be excuses as he left the proximity; escaping her prolonged company. “But I haven’t told you how very well you look this evening – nor asked if you’ve been enjoying your first ball. So… have you been enjoying the ball?”

Confused, Emma almost missed the compliment as she choked out, “Yes - it has been a most diverting evening!”

“And not quite over yet,” Young Gold chanced; a bit of excitement laced in his voice. “I suppose it’s fair to assume you are already engaged for the next dance.”

“A very fair assumption, indeed. And very accurate!”

“And the following?”

“Already claimed as well –“

“Teaches me to never arrive late to a ball again! Is there any space left for a friend who wishes to make amends of his tardy ways? I cannot waltz for the life of me but –“  
“Oh – they’ll be no waltzing here! As fashionable as it may be in London: it would shock the good folk of Castleshire to their graves!”

“Saved by propriety,” declared Young Gold. “I think I can prove an agreeable partner in the country dances – especially Scottish reels if they are yet to come.”

Emma sighed; making herself look lost in thought as she eyed Young Gold up and down.

“I suppose,” Emma started, “That there may be a reel, left let unclaimed, towards the end of the evening –“

“The closing dance?”

“Not quite – but near there!”

“Very well,” Young Gold smiled. “That shall be my dance with the pretty Miss Nolan this evening!”

The musicians were queuing the next set – August coming forth to claim her; he nodded at Young Gold before leading Emma back to the floor.

Looking back, Emma saw Young Gold offering his arm to his step-mother – receiving a playful slap from Mrs. Gold’s fan as she whispered something into his ear; taking his arm only after – apparently –chastising the man like one would an obstinate child.

* * *

Author's Note: 

_I have to ask, though I'm not likely to admit if you guess right or wrong, has anyone a guess what Young Gold has been doing in the south? And for people waiting for other stories to be updated of mine: they will be. I have a goal of getting this one to a certain point - and then another story will be undergoing some updating. Thanks for all the people still reading my stories - it amazes me every time I log on to see how busy you guys have been (I can't keep track of my hit tracker at all anymore!) in my absence!_

 


	12. The Scottish Reel

A/N - *waves white flag* I love you and I'm sorry. I hope anyone still reading my work enjoys the chapter! 

 

The hour of dining passed pleasantly with Emma finding herself seated at the long table between August and the Widow Talbot. Perhaps the three were not good influences on the others’ manners – Emma had long stopped looking to her far left; where her mama was seated next to their kind host. Far too many disapproving glances had been directed in their direction when Emma met her mother’s eyes. 

But it really was unreasonable that she should be laughing too loudly at August’s tales – the idea that enjoying herself so obviously should ruin anyone else’s evening seemed absurd! The Widow seemed to find nothing amiss and urged August onward without calling any concern! 

Emma found herself much more disposed to look to her right – for the far right had the family Gold seated. They were too distant for conversation – and Mrs. Nolan had instilled it was unseemly for anyone of breeding to turn their head fully and call down the table for conversation – and unpardonably rude to those closer in proximity; suggesting something amiss in their person should one crave the company of others instead. 

When Alexandra had cooed to an officer across the table earlier, Emma was certain her mama would have dropped her spoon in shock – had not the proper holding of utensils been so vital to Mrs. Nolan’s ideals of sophistication. 

Even if the Golds could not be talked to – and probably could not hear anything besides the three’s laughter over others’ heads – Emma quickly learned that if she inclined her head a little forward when speaking, or moved a little too far forward to sip her drink, she could make out Young Gold’s visage quite easily from the corner of her eye. 

Already filled with a sense of accomplishment for being at her first ball, Emma could not deny that she looked very well indeed that night. She was never vain about appearance – nor would she ever be one to be self-possessed and haughty! But she was young and healthy – and hearing even gentle compliments about her appearance made her sit a little taller than before; craning her neck slightly to observe if Young Gold was looking towards her – and discovering with silent delight he was yet again! 

Of course people would compliment the appearance of any woman at a ball – no one in polite society would address even an eighty-year-old woman as anything but comely and fine. Emma was certain had she rolled around in mud, not slept in days, and walked around barefoot that her family’s friends would still sing her praises about how well she looked this evening. It was truly the only thing to be said – 

But was she the ‘pretty little Miss Nolan’, that Young Gold had called her? 

Part of her wanted to dismiss the thought entirely; force it into being simply a tease or kindness and take her thoughts elsewhere. After all: they were simply words and possibly carried no weight in the least. 

Perhaps most young women were ‘pretty little Miss – ‘ to Young Gold. It seemed a good turn of phrase for a solicitor at any rate. 

But why look at her so? Why, more often than not, did she look through the tunnel of faces, food, and merriment to find Young Gold looking back at her; a soft smile spreading along his lips just for her? 

The man was positively a riddle. Had he been timely, he easily could have sat nearer her and August – or better yet, been entertaining her with his stories instead; been pouring herself and Widow Talbot wine and acting every inch the gentleman August was managing! 

Almost on cue, August reached forward to pour more wine for both lady before helping himself to a healthy dose. 

“I’m thinking of setting myself up down there,” August chanced; shrugging his shoulder. “Maybe a small plantation – but grow something different than all these men and their cotton and tobacco. Like – growing some of the fruit they have down there! The strangest colors and shapes you’ve ever seen.” 

August seemed to have notice her eyes drifting over him; Emma uncertain if he realized she’d been watching Young Gold or not – but he reached forward to pat her hand; joking, “If you continue being a good girl, I’ll bring some back with me next time. Would be a nice test to see which of you lot are truly brave –“

“I’m brave,” Emma challenged; dropping her head to prevent peering over August’s shoulder. 

“All you land-lovers claim that; but it’s such a different experience living abroad – I only wish I could convince my father to move down there. Would be a great deal simpler to set up a new Booth estate than reinvigor the old! Besides the colors, the fragrance, the people – wouldn’t you agree, Mrs. Talbot?”

“Oh yes – some of the happiest years of my life were spent in India. Though I’ll maintain that abroad is for when we’re young! A time finally came in my travels when these old bones ached for motherland again; almost kissed the sand when we landed in England once more!” 

“That reminds me of a bit of gossip I picked up near the cape – seems a member of our acquaintance would also proscribe to Mrs. Talbot’s assessment of abroad - was a bit more ‘adventurous’ in his youth than I would have assumed - but can you guess who?” 

Emma pondered but shook her head the negative, “No – surely not Sir Archibald –“

“Lord – that man’s never left the county if not a forced trip to London,” August countered. “Gold’s the man!”

“Young Gold,” Emma asked; wondering if this was part of the puzzle of his tardiness. 

“I meant his father but I understand Young Gold has had much business abroad as well,” another sip of wine and August continued. “Once upon a time – well, twenty odd years back, a young Scottish clerk was sent to Barbados; quite a moment of pride for him, at least back then. He was overseeing the business interests of a well-to-do family around the cape and formed a friendship with their recently orphaned niece – one Miss Mildred Trujillo – “

“Trujillo,” the Widow Talbot interrupted. “That is certainly not a name I’ve heard –“ 

“The family originated from Spain, I understand. Miss Trujillo was the product of a Spanish landowner and his English wife. Old money and land in Barbados, the Trujillos. However, seems the last Trujillo master could not live within his means. “

Emma could tell something entirely wicked was to follow – the gleam in August eyes too established and the Widow seemed far too engrossed already. 

Another sip of his wine, Emma certain made to pad the time for dramatic effect, and August whispered, “They say he ‘off-ed’ himself - his wife following quickly; numbed by grief – “

Emma felt a gasp escape her lips – quickly looking around to ensure no one else heard August’s tale. Young Gold met her eyes again – but Emma pointedly looked away; embarrassed to reveal any signs of hearing gossip supposedly about his father. 

“The girl was left all but destitute – forced to live off the kindness and charity of her mother’s people. I dare say, they were about to cast the girl off into the world; force her into work as a governess before Gold stepped forward to suggest a suit – “ 

“You mean,” started Emma. “That Miss Mildred Trujillo – “ 

“Was the first Mrs. Gold – mother to Young Gold. Yes, indeed! It would seem that Mr. Gold was most enamored – spent practically everything he’d saved thus far to shower her with fine gifts. Gather she was a proud little thing – she married beneath her but at least she didn’t have to make her own way in the world! They were happy enough in London – but when Gold had to return back to Scotland on a family matter, she had to face the glaring reality that she’d wed a man who came from nothing. Old Millie ended up running off – “

Emma paled, “What do you mean ‘running off’?”

The widow cautioned under her breath, “He means, dear, that she abandoned her husband; he was jilted.” 

Naïve and sheltered, Emma was uncertain what to make of this revelation. She schooled her face to remain neutral to any observer – and stared straight forward; fearing to see Young Gold as she processed just what had unfolded between his parents. 

“- Yes, abandoned both husband and child in Scotland and returned to London. There were some rumors of a lover there. A year or two after, Gold had enough of the spectacle! Was quite done supporting both her and her lover in London style while he cared for his child and aging mother back in Scotland! Gold sped back to London –whether to expose the pair or take back his wife no one knows. But the pair managed to flee right ahead of him – Mildred and her lover lived in Spain for a while. It ended right where our story begun: Mildred alone in Barbados. And, like her parents before her, she chose to end all. Jumped off a cliff overlooking her family’s former manor house – right into the oceans.” 

Suicide. And adultery! Both subjects as taboo in her father’s household as could be! Just one was all needed to damn one’s immortal soul – Emma was beyond herself! August seemed quite pleased at completely scandalizing the younger woman – the Widow Talbot seemed to find no joy in the gossip and gently patted Miss Nolan’s hand. 

“These things happen,” she whispered to Emma. No judgment visible on the widow’s face; just a clear observation of a world often hidden from Emma. 

Emma focused fully on the meal for the remainder of the dinner; ignoring August’s tries of conversation but heard the Widow Talbot caution him to ‘leave Emma be’. One thing kept repeating in Emma’s thoughts – along with clutter and confusion she thought of poor Young Gold. If there were even partial truths in August’s gossip, did Young Gold know – was it something he thought of often? 

There was a hasty apology from her old friend towards the end of the meal but Emma was more than ready to be claimed for the next set of dances; a chance to not think for few hours. 

And it did work to start. She was back to being one of the most pleasing young women at the ball ; smiling and laughing like there wasn’t a care in the world. However, at the end of the quadrille, Emma witnessed a dark head of curls bounding towards her. She had been thanking one partner when Young Gold arrived at her elbow. 

“My count is, quite likely, off – but I do believe our dance is upon us,” he gestured behind them; where the musicians were tuning a set of fiddles – on cue, a fiddle started strumming a warning for couples to return to the floor. 

Being the most lively dance of the night, the Scottish reel always received enthusiasm from any crowd. Couples, of a variety of ages, clamored to the floor. Even the Widow Talbot secured Mr. Nolan for the reel – it being beloved at country balls even in her youth. Young Gold extended his arm to escort Emma forward; leaning in to mutter in her ear – but he was drowned out by a piper releasing a loud wail through the hall. 

They took their positions; Young Gold flashing a playful grin as he deposited Emma and moved to take his place across from her. To the left were Alexandra and another of her officer admirers. Sir Archibald moved to their right, escorting a pleasant looking girl with light red hair. 

“A fine evening,” Sir Archibald called towards Emma and Young Gold; looking still quite pleased with himself. Their host’s eyes did not seem to wander long from the tall figure of his dance partner – who returned his attentions with a dazzling smile. 

Who in the world was she, Emma wondered. Nearing forty, most of the neighborhood assumed domestic bliss for dear Sir Archibald a long lost cause – but he seemed to regain twenty years as he lowered to bow for his partner. Emma was so interested in Sir Archibald and the young woman, she’d overlooked the start of the dance; attention only returning when she heard Young Gold clear his throat – he was already lowered and waiting for a returned curtsy to begin the dance. 

“Is anything amiss, Miss Nolan,” he questioned as they first took hands; weaving together through the maze of partners. 

The Scottish reel, especially late in the ball, seemed to have the desired affect of awakening all dancers and onlookers; the rapid clapping and stomping called for in the set echoed against the ceiling – the sound and twirling making it difficult to hold a conversation between partners, Emma found. 

When she spun away from Sir Archibald and was faced with Young Gold again, she managed to achieve – what she hoped – was a charming smile. 

“Nothing at all,” she called as they changed partners again. 

If either Young Gold or herself had any designs on maintaining intimate conversation during their dance, they had clearly made an oversight in choosing the set of reels. No sooner did they find each other in the set than they were called upon to split – though Emma found it exciting when Young Gold captured her gloved hands and led her through the tunnel of dancers. 

“You’re fortunate to be dancing this with a Scotsman,” Young Gold triumphed before they separated again. His accent was thicker now – Emma hearing the highlands ringing through where he’d certainly been schooled to hide it elsewhere. Emma leaped through the line, catching hands with several other men in attendance – but none causing the same wave of joy to singe through her body. 

“So you are a true blooded, honest to God, Scotsman, Mr. Gold,” she asked as they spun towards a finish. 

“Born and bred,” he proclaimed with pride. “Though there’s a touch of the Spanish blood there as well – thanks to my mother.” 

She felt herself pale – some part of August’s tale already proved to carry some truth. Young Gold led her down the line again; curls floating in all directions as he pointedly held her gaze. Emma chanced to hope any change in her coloring would be excused as shy modesty at his attentions – not guilt of knowing a story she probably shouldn’t. 

When the set came to a close, Emma lowered in time with everyone around her; still too aware of Young Gold’s unwavering gaze. 

“Is the pretty Miss Nolan still enjoying her first ball,” Young Gold inquired as he helped Emma from the floor – heading past the tables of refreshment and very close to the doorway leading outward to Sir Archibald’s garden. Emma was not opposed in the slightest in continuing to the fresh air and privacy of a walk – but Young Gold stopped himself midway from the door; letting go of her arm as he turned to stare down at her. 

“Very much – ,” Emma heard herself stammer slightly. “But how could I not? Not now that I’ve danced reels with a true Scotsman!” 

He laughed, “You are teasing me now, I see! I think I shall like to be teased by you –“ 

“Really? Why?”

He paused, moving a little closer, “Because I find, and I’m sure many will agree with me on this score, that Miss Nolan has a perfectly agreeable countenance and we all exist merely to give her stuff to practice her wit on!” 

“You slight me, sir,” Emma cautioned. “I am not so cruel, truly, as to think everyone else in the world only here for my own amusement-“

“I did not mean it so,” Young Gold assured her. “Truly I did not! Merely that we’d be proud to hold the station of being here for your joy. But of course you’d not wish so – not a kind heart like you! Miss Nolan will be much renowned for her kindness, wit, and beauty –“ 

“Please stop,” Emma begged; embarrassed. “I don’t know why you keep saying such things –“ 

“I’m only reporting what everyone will be saying; riding back to their residences. Was not Miss Nolan accomplished? – Indeed, quite an accomplished lass. Was she not quick-witted? – oh, to bring former wits to their knees! Is she not the beauty of the county – surpassing all others!” 

“I do not find the humor in calling me things I am not,” Emma muttered; moving a step away from the young man. 

“And I do not understand,” Young Gold cocked his head to the side; confused. “ – did you not admit yourself to being kind? And your mind is both playful and aware – which I’ve always owned to wit in my peers.” 

“Those are not the attributes I find you false with,” Emma assessed. 

Emma watched Young Gold’s face as he pondered her words; brows arched as a grin spread across his face. 

“Surely not,” he asked. “Come now, Miss Nolan! Can we really add the modesty of an angel to your list of wonderments? It really is quite undone for such a handsome creature to deny such claims! Though I will not report accounts of everyone present’s thoughts on the matter, I can at least give my own: you are a very handsome woman; a most fair, accomplished, kind, and modest lady with a wicked wit, to boot!” 

Emma was speechless – uncertain if the flattery just or not. Even more uncertain if she was pleased when Young Gold stepped closer again. She looked down to her slippers – avoiding the man as his words warmed her heart. There had always seemed to be a quality about Young Gold that drew her interests – he was a pleasing young man!

Clever and efficient in his profession. Friendly and amusing – though some darkness seemed to shadow him at times; following him room to room and Emma wasn’t sure why. He’d told her about his isolation in childhood – where she could surmise a strain between himself and father; his only family left. And, be there truth in August’s tale, Emma wondered if that added strength to Young Gold’s dark shadow. 

When she looked up, Emma met the intensity of Young Gold’s dark eyes – wondering if she correctly read the hope there. What could he possibly be hoping for? 

Still, there were a number of compliments she found for the man – all right on the tip of her tongue. She admired his warmth and intensity of person – he was kind and attentive to all he held dear; illustrated be being such a good son to both Mr. and Mrs. Gold in turn. She thought him brave, as well. Maybe not like a soldier or sailor – they who face death daily, but there was a bravery and strength simply in enduring; of finding some way to make others laugh while battling his own demons. 

And he was handsome, though Emma knew the likes of Alexandra would find fault – might even label him plain and wanting. But Emma found herself liking the look of his smooth, square jaw – wondering what it would feel like to touch with her bare hand. His hair did not seem to take to any styling or care like other men’s – but gave her remembrance of his riding; of their first meeting. 

The true beauty would always be in his eyes, Emma was certain. Dark, warm, and inviting her to stare till distraction! 

Emma Nolan realized that she liked Young Mr. Gold very much. And had, probably, for some time. Startled, she pondered if she may very well be in love with the man. A not unpleasant state, she decided. Yes – loving a man who she admired so made absolute sense! She felt a giddiness when she realized her love for the man in front of her – but did Young Gold love her? He seemed to regard her. Like her even – Emma had to know more! 

“I -,” she finally found her voice. Pausing to taste her tongue and question what would sprout from her lips next. Young Gold appeared to be hanging on every breath. 

“I – feel a little light headed,” Emma claimed. “Would you be so good as to take a turn about the garden with me? It’s terribly hot in this hall –“ 

In the end, Emma decided Young Gold will have to add ‘bold’ to his compliments of her character. She felt ready to embody all of it – kind, witty, beautiful, and bold! Not many respectable young women would lie to have a moment of privacy, thus. She could imagine walking together, away from the prying eyes of society and families. Maybe they’d stumble upon a bench to sit upon – she could take his hand in hers and reveal her own assessment of his good character! 

Young Gold nodded with enthusiasm, “Of course!” 

Just as he offered his arm, Mr. Gold appeared behind his son. 

“A word,” Mr. Gold barked at his son; nodding stiffly towards Miss Nolan before floating backward into the crowd. Young Gold turned to her sheepishly; muttering apologies. 

“Must you go,” Emma asked. “Surely it’s nothing pertinent that cannot be resolved once the pair of you are home – “

Young Gold opened his mouth only to close it again; staring backwards at his father’s retreat before facing Emma again; taking her hand in his. 

“I am sorry – but I fear I must ensure all is well. If you could give me but a moment, I can talk with him and be right back –“ 

Emma nodded, “Naturally! I think I shall help myself to some air – I’ll be waiting in the garden. Perhaps, if you free yourself, you may join me still?” 

“I can think of nothing I’d like more,” Young Gold promised her; bowing before taking his leave. Emma watched his head bob in and out of the crowd until it followed a shorter person – undoubtedly his father – out the hall doors. 

Releasing a low sigh, Emma turned and walked through the opposite doors – into the lush garden. It had to be nearing midnight now – a full moon reflected overhead as she explored. In daylight, she was certain she could trail these paths with her eyes closed. However, night brought on a new obstacle – making every dark corner look positively sinister! In the end, thinking Young Gold would find the paths even more difficult than herself, Emma decided to stay nearer the doorway; where a serviceable enough bench was placed against a decorative Roman archway. 

She paced the length of the archway; wondering if this was to be a scene she’d remember always – a story to her future children about their parents’ declarations. Hearing a shift of weight in the leaves behind her – Emma stopped, turning to greet Young Gold - 

There was an electricity in the air; Emma felt her heart almost leap from her chest as strong arms encircled her – dragging her deeper and deeper into the shadow of the archway. She felt herself blush at the feeling of a heated breath on her neck – turning slowly to tease a certain man about the liberties he’d taken already in their private tryst.

But it was definitely not Young Gold with his arms about her waist. 

The sight of August, far more sober than Emma would have guessed from his behavior at dinner, left her speechless; half wanting to wretch herself free than hear anything he had to say. 

“Having known you our entire lives, I would feel remiss at not informing you –“

“August.. Let us return to the house. Surely our families are wondering – “ 

“We’ll tell them you needed a spot of air.”

It was disheartening to hear the excuse she’d use with another man flung back at her. Emma chanced once more, “You have been someone I’ve trusted with upmost certainty; ever a friend –“ 

If August seemed in the least bit cast-down by this he didn’t show it; a serious determination pronounced his features – leaving Emma even more unsettled. 

“And it is this friendship and loyalty that leaves me, honor-bound, to tell you –“

Emma broke in again; challenging, “Have I acted in a way that gave you cause to believe I –“

“Honestly: yes. You seemed most encouraging! Perhaps not to the causal observer – if that saves your dignity – but to those of us who can boast knowing you since infancy, it seemed a certain.”

“I did not mean to indicate – “

“Come now, Emma! Half of Castleshire awaits the announcement of some type of understanding; though obviously many thought the granddaughter of a gentleman could do better –“

Never, in all her years of knowing and caring for August Booth, had Emma thought anything but friendship existed between them. She’d been too steadfast in her feelings to ever suppose he might feel more. She stopped openly struggling; trying to find some manner to dissuade any declaration that could follow the interlude. 

“I do not find it the character of a friend or gentleman to corner me this way and accost me! I’ve done nothing I am ashamed – and the gossips live to cause a stir! If not me someone else would have their tongues waggling - ” 

“Which is why I am cautioning you now – before he drags your good name into disrepute!” 

“Wh – who are we talking about,” demanded Emma. “And what are we talking about?”

“Young Gold,” replied August; as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “I am warning you against entering into - what could become- a terrible scandal with Young Gold –“ 

“This is not an amusing game, August. End it so we may return to the ball –“ 

“Tis no game – though I shock even myself at the solemnity I have managed! I count myself a friend of both parties and would have thought nothing of an occasional flirtation or merriment between you both. But I returned and found the gossips already hard at work! And you are too young to be brought into a scandal –“

“A scandal? Because he’s a solicitor’s son and I’m the penniless daughter of a country clergyman? Surely there are greater stories to be had –“ 

“He’s engaged,” August exclaimed. 

Emma felt physically ill – her stomach plummeted like she was a child again falling from a tree. Not a moment prior she’d been contemplating Young Gold declaring his attentions solely to herself – thinking of future children as she walked the trails. Where she’d admit to a lack of knowledge of the larger world; of naivety – surely Young Gold had not behaved in the manner of a man engaged to marry another. No – everything about his person seemed to indicate feelings for her. Besides, there had been no announcement! No lines in a paper nor had his father or stepmother spoken of any upcoming marriage! 

“I’ve not heard – you are surely thinking of someone else.” 

“No – I’ve on good authority that Young Gold has himself a heiress in Barbados! Seems his father and himself share very similar taste in wives – at least they look for an exotic beauty in their first.”

“And Young Gold has talked of her? Since you are such a friend, certainly he’s shared his joy over the impending nuptials.” 

“ – He has not. But, really Emma, he is not like to mention his intended amongst any of our sort.”

“May I ask why –“

“Seems the elder Gold was not approving of the match. His son was visiting some of his mother’s folk, met the girl, and wrote to his father for a blessing – Young Gold has always seemed the sort needing of approval. The blessing was not given, in fact some choice remarks were made against the lady, as I understand – seems the entire event caused a falling out between both Golds until – “

“Until the new Mrs. Gold came into being and mended their ties,” Emma finished. 

She hated to admit it but it seemed to work very well into comments made by Mrs. and Young Gold; the confidences Young Gold had shared over his past gleaming in her memory – he craved family; acknowledged the difficulties and distances that lay between himself and father. Love was always evident between father and son – but there was a strain that Mrs. Gold navigated flawlessly. 

“What were the complaints,” Emma inquired. “Why did Mr. Gold not approve of the heiress?”

“Besides repeating history,” August answered with a bitter laugh. “There was a question of her being lacking in the traits necessary in a ‘good English wife’. I met her at several parties when I was ashore there; she liked to gamble and drink with the best of them – finds great amusement in flirting and being admired. But, please don’t misunderstand, she is charming – and has better taste then one would have guessed, looking at who she freely chose – “ 

“What do you mean?”

“Not like Young Gold has a lot to offer. Where many in her position, being independently wealthy – and a successful gambler! – she could have easily married another wealthy plantation owner and expanded her wealth tenfold. But to choose a kind, simple man – “

Not so simple, Emma always knew. He was an intelligent man. And for all her amiable qualities, even be her as witty, kind, and beautiful as he claimed less than an hour ago, Emma realized he’d made a fine match for himself. Perhaps she was never more than a blur in his passing – for he knew more than anyone that she’d bring nothing to a marriage besides herself. 

“I’m sure both parties are equally lucky to find such a love,” Emma replied; trying to fain disinterest. “As friends of Young Gold, I’m sure we can both hope for a speedy change in his father’s hesitations and for them to be wed before spring!” 

When her lip trembled as she attempted to walk away, August moved to hold her; engulfing her in a protective embrace. 

“- I am sorry, Emma,” August muttered into her hair; pretending to not notice hot tears running down her cheeks unto his cravat. “But now you know – you have enough time to distance yourself respectfully. I knew there was one thing you could not bare –“ 

Emma leaned her head onto his shoulder; allowing herself to sway as August rocked her back and forth.

“ – I knew you could not bare all of Castleshire knowing you hurt; to be pitied like some jilted woman.” 

Emma nodded her head and sighed, “At least I’ve maintain my dignity and pride, August.”


	13. "What are men to rocks and mountains"

Had she gone feral? For days after the ball Emma would flee to the kitchen any time she heard a knock at the door.

In less than a week, Young Gold had called thrice – each time a narrow escape saved Emma from having to sit with him and her family; sipping tea and acting like nothing was amiss. The more time passed – the more anger she found! How dare he behave thus with a prior claim – what would his intended think of this? Emma dreamed up the image of a heartsick maid being forced to watch her love pay court to anther – but reminded herself August described Young Gold’s future wife as a bit of a flirt herself. Perhaps this was a game they played – tallying score for when reunited again? A game of boasting between the pair of them-

But Emma Nolan was certainly not going to help his numbers! 

For every excuse Young Gold seemed to make to pay the Nolans’ unexpected visits, Emma was becoming better at avoidance! With every book he brought from his stepmother, message from his father, or ‘just passing by’ she better practiced the routes of escape! The back staircase worked wonders when she noticed him riding up the road – the poky servant’s corridor serviced if he sneaked up on her; already at the door.

Today was the latter. There had not even been a crunch of gravel as he approached the front door. Emma might have found herself caught if not for dear Leo, leaning out the window and declaring, “He’s here again – Young Gold!” 

Mrs. Nolan and her children were situated in the parlor; working on their quite pursuit of reading on a lazy, late morning. Mrs. Nolan set down her book to follow her son to the window; remarking, “Surely not again – “ 

“This is the fourth time,” Leo declared too loudly in Emma’s direction – but she was already on the move; leaving her book thrown into the corner of the window seat as she rushed for the servant’s corridor – running straight into her papa near the landing. 

“Emma,” he reached forward to study her. “Where are you off to –“ 

There was a knock on the door – rapid and determined strokes against wood! Young Gold’s patience seemed to be wearing thin by now – if lucky, his amusement would be diminishing as well! Emma heard Nova’s feet padding down the opposite hallway as the door creaked open. Through the walls, Emma could imagine the door opening to Young Gold; would he have walked or ridden today? Would his hair be sticking up in the back – cheeks reddened from his trek here – Emma shook her head; frustrated with herself for slipping in resolve before trying to walk around her father. 

“I promised to meet Alexandra and am very late – please make my excuses, papa!” 

Mr. Nolan eyed his eldest child with concern, “Emma, I think we need to discuss –“

“Than we shall, papa,” Emma promised. “Just later. I really am very late and it is most rude to keep August waiting!” 

Taking off his glasses, Mr. Nolan grew stern. “You were meeting Alexandra but a moment ago. Really, Emma we must speak on this–“

Emma rebounded quickly, hearing footsteps grow louder as Nova showed Young Gold into the parlor. With no room for error, Emma bluffed, “First I am meeting Alexandra at the shops than stopping to pay a call on the Booths – quite a busy day!” 

Nova emerged from a far door. 

“I’ve just showed the younger Mr. Gold into the parlor, sir,” Nova announced; bobbing downward in an awkward curtsey before heading back to her work. 

“Thank you, Nova – “

“I must be going – please make my excuses!” 

Emma ducked into the kitchen before she could hear her father’s reply – knowing it would weaken her cause. 

Joanna was busy kneading dough; sleeves rolled up past her elbows as she worked. Flour settling in a fog across the table as Emma strolled past; eyes scanning to the backdoor. Joanna smirked at Emma; nodding towards a bin of gingerbread cakes near the door. 

“I’m starting to see the pattern, Miss Emma,” the housekeeper called; clicking her tongue in disapproval. 

“I hardly know to what you are referring,” Emma shot back; helping herself to a cake before exiting for their garden – careful to not pass the front of the house or parlor windows as she strolled into the Castleshire wilderness. 

She was becoming an advocate of longer and longer country walks as of late – but there was really only one safe destination: Snow Peak. It would have been easy to call on Alexandra and maybe purchase a pretty ribbon at the shops; simple to add some grain of truth for when she would be forced to address the matter with her father. But she’d be too close to the Golds’ lodgings that way. 

To the west was the village. East the Booths. South to the Lucas’ – and the Widow Talbot would have welcomed her with open arms! They were days away from their planned trip to London and the Widow delighted in telling Emma what she’d in mind for them this winter. 

It was a pity Mrs. Nolan and Lucas had managed to find such a central location for the Golds – truly unfair now, thought Emma! For there was no place to go where she wouldn’t worry about running into that man! Worse yet – she might find him heading home himself and be forced to withstand an extended, private walk with Young Gold into the village! 

Emma almost tripped on a stick in the brush – choosing to pick it up instead and slash it through the now dying grasses like a great sword; each swing releasing a bit more frustration until a pronounced whack sent the dried wildflowers to an early grave. She watched as seeds went spreading into the wind; taking a large, unladylike bite of the ginger cake – smirking with contentment at the feeling of crumbs now falling on her chin. Emma continued to swing her ‘sword’ and eat the cake with indulgence. 

Yes, she was truly becoming feral – it was almost more tempting to stay the winter here in Castleshire – to embody a mad, wild-woman doing as she pleased; crossing the moors in mud soaked dress, and not caring in the least for anything at all! 

Society and merriment in London no longer held a place in her thoughts – though she forced a smile at the Widow Talbot enthused tales. 

Although - London may just be the perfect distraction for nursing a broken heart, thought Emma. There were young men of plenty there. To experience the company of truly accomplished gentlemen: maybe that was the thing to dim any illusions of grandness in Young Gold’s character. Where qualities she admired in Young Gold seemed to alight most easily in her mind, Emma tried to compose a list as she walked; of the many things about Young Gold that would have made for a terrible husband and companion. This list took much more convincing than the first – but Emma almost decided his nose was crooked; though it could have been a trick of the light. His laugh sounded like a horse – more a bray than anything resembling musical or romantic. Certainly there were better laughs to be heard! 

She had been intrigued by the man and his mystery – but how could uncertainty and confusion make for a happy marriage? To always wonder where one stood with their marriage partner seemed a fate worse than spinsterhood. At least spinsters could be feral, wild-women and no one found anything amiss! 

It wasn’t her place, anyway, to decide the merits of Young Gold as a husband. No, not at all! His heiress had already done so and found no deficit of character – at least nothing she could not overlook or find a reason to smile from. 

When Emma found herself relinquishing that Young Gold’s laugh was in fact quite charming – she acknowledged, yet again, her largest complaint against Young Gold: 

He was to be with someone else.

There! The real issue would always emerge. Without any concern for her wellbeing, Young Gold imposed himself upon Castleshire society and had Emma Nolan fall in love with him. And maybe he’d not intended such – but it happened! And Emma thought Young Gold had to be cruel – although she’d witnessed little else as evidence on that score. But maybe he was a skilled actor - 

The sun was high overhead by the time Emma decided to head home; hoping enough hours had past to find herself safe once more. When a figure appeared silhouetted by the sun’s rays into a dark, shadowy mass – Emma jumped out of her skin; certain for a moment Young Gold had trapped her alone. 

“Do you have any idea how I passed my morning,” echoed a voice low but sweet as an angel; decidedly young and feminine. 

Alexandra Thomas stepped forward; looking tired and perplexed – dare even haggard compared to her usual appearance. 

“Not more than an hour hence Young Gold turned up at my door,” Alexandra huffed. “Asked if he could accompany you and I to the general store as he heard we’d planned to shop – claimed he was very much in need of a ribbon-tie for his pocket watch but required assistance choosing. I must say: Young Gold seemed most astonished you we’re not sitting there with me; having tea –“ 

“Alexa – I am sorry,” Emma started; cut short by her friend. 

“I know I’m not as clever as you – and I do tend to be flighty and forgetful,” Alexandra remarked a touch saddened. “So I thought, ‘maybe it has slipped my mind- maybe Emma is waiting for me’. I rushed down high street – Young Gold on heel– and spent nearly half an hour browsing ribbons and making small-talk with him; alone! I’m not even sure which of us was more put-out by the experience. That man knew absolutely nothing of fabrics nor fashions in London – and does he not live there? Dear Lord – the bulk of the conversation he and I could manage were remarks about the fine harvest and wondering if it would snow before the week is out!”

Emma looked to her feet in embarrassment; caught in a lie and scared of what had transpired as she roamed the wilds. 

“ – I made excuses for you, of course,” Alexandra assured her gently. Emma felt Alexandra’s hand grasping her own; her friend’s delicate head swooping down to rest on Emma’s shoulder. “But – really! What is going on? I fear I’ve missed something of import. Everyone is acting peculiar! August is serious all of a sudden. And you are being dishonest – even if I thought it was in your nature to be so, you’d at least be lying better than you did this morning! And now Young Gold is rushing around like a love-sick spaniel –“ 

“Don’t say that, Alexa - ,” Emma begged. 

“So Young Gold is ‘love-sick’ – he is in love with you?” 

Emma shook her head, “I – I think not. I have every reason to believe his heart lies elsewhere –“ 

“Oh no – not I? I surely cannot have encouraged any passions from Young Gold,” Alexandra pleaded; a look of disgust on her face. “It is this charm, I suppose. Positively impossible to control just who I fling it upon!” 

Alexandra smirked up at Emma – she’d been teasing! Emma laughed at her friend; marveling at how well it felt to laugh after days of grief. 

“There,” Alexandra looked quite pleased. “I finally broke that stony look everyone seems to be wearing these days! So what makes you believe Young Gold is not a serious prospect and suitor?”

“He has not made me an offer, Alexandra. So hardly a ‘prospect’ – or any other term! And truly nothing to me at all,” Emma lied through her teeth. 

“He has not,” Alexandra seemed shocked for a moment; recovering to say, “But – many had believed an understanding existed already? He was blatantly staring at the ball – I noticed! Asked August if I was wrong and he shared my thoughts-” 

But August did not tell Alexandra that Young Gold was already engaged? Emma wondered why – but thought maybe it was to protect Young Gold and his heiress from any immediate wrath by Mr. Gold. Alexandra was not a subtle creature – if Young Gold’s engagement was told to her, Alexandra would surely have made it publically known to all. Might even have strolled up to Mr. Gold and congratulate him on his son’s impending marriage – had she enjoyed too much punch.

Young Gold was still a friend of August – of course he’d keep Young Gold’s privacy! And did she not believe herself to be in love with him; however unlikely any affection could be returned? Emma decided it was her duty to protect Young Gold in this as well – whatever hurt she felt now would pass eventually. Hopefully soon!

“I know that his interests are not in marriage,” Emma replied evenly; witnessing Alexandra’s eyes widening. 

“You mean he – Oh Emma,” Alexandra’s hand crushed her’s again; holding it firmly to her breast. An intensity bloomed in Alexandra’s eyes – a maturity Emma had not witnessed before as Alexandra asked, “Did he take liberties? No one would blame you, Emma, if he acted ungentlemanly! There are always things to be done to see this righted – our fathers’ could ride the criminal out of town and you’d never have to see that odious man again!”

“Dear me, Alexandra, what are you talking of – my only real complaint against Young Gold is his joy of flirting so when I know he carries no serious regard for me; it seems a game to the man! However undignified I find his flirtations now – I cannot pretend he’s done me true harm. No harm at all -had my vanity not been used so against me!” 

Alexandra took a good long look at Emma; nodding to herself before chancing, “If you are certain Young Gold’s attentions are unwanted and being delivered insincerely than I am one to believe you, Emma. And will make it my personal duty he finds no easy sport here in Castleshire!” 

“Thank you - ,” Emma started before eyeing Alexandra with concern. “ – What are you getting at, Alexa?”

“Never you mind,” replied Alexandra in a sing-song voice; eyes bubbling over with counterfeit mirth. “But if he finds good sport trying to seduce my dear friend he might just have to face me as a love-lorn fool; fawning him with attentions and desiring his opinion on every blot of fabric or silly little fashion I can find – or hanging over his assessment of the weather like it was a love sonnet to myself.” 

Against the pain of the last few days, Emma found herself laughing; large, honest perils of the stuff yet again. 

“I must caution you,” Emma surmised. “I think he may have much practice. But tis the act of a good friend to make him squirm a bit during his remaining stay!” 

“I am a most loyal friend – if nothing else,” Alexandra complimented herself. “Now you must assist me; showcase yourself an equal of loyalty and devotion.” 

Emma worried for a moment that something uniformly distasteful had planted itself in Alexandra’s life. Earnestly, Emma implored, “Of course – Alexandra I will help you anyway possible!” 

Draping herself across Emma, Alexandra released a loud sigh, “Then help me back to your parlor and feed me! I’ve walked miles today and am exhausted! I will never understand why everyone is so enthused over walking in the country – fresh air and exercise are ridiculous claims to happiness! Clearly: someone wanted us so exhausted that nothing else could spring to mind late in an evening,” here Alexandra bite her lips; wriggling her eyebrows at Emma. “Must have been a father or clergyman – with your luck, probably both!” 

The sun was setting, and Alexandra long fed and returned to her family, when Reverend Nolan gestured Emma towards his study – a look exchanged between himself and wife confirmed for their eldest that the impending doom of this conversation had been discussed between themselves prior. When motioned to sit, Emma rooted herself nearest the edge of the chair – as if it rendered escape anyway ensured; swift and guiltless. The truth Emma had acknowledged since she was eight: there was no escape from her parents! The ferocity of their love and shared steadfast nature ensured that they would not back away from protecting and assisting their children – even if their young had yet to decided which was required most at the moment.

“Emma, your mother and I are both worried – your behavior has been most strange. Is there anything you’d like to tell me,” Mr. Nolan sat opposite his daughter; fingers intertwined as Emma usually saw when comforting any given member of the congregation; elbows bent at a downward angle; settling gently against outstretched legs. She was unsure if this was a deliberate gesture or not; maybe practiced by all training clergy for counseling purposes. 

“I suppose I am all exhausted,” Emma chanced; wondering if she could still navigate herself through the awkwardness. “The ball was wonderful, papa! And I barely slept the nights leading up to it – “ 

“So you are just overtired,” Mr. Nolan asked; raising an eyebrow as he stared down at his daughter – who quickly nodded an answer. “Which is why you go on erratic, long walks? And why does Young Gold in particular seem to bring about these feelings of fatigue? Emma, you found no issue when Mrs. Talbot and the little Lucas’ visited earlier this week – nor find it hard to visit with Alexandra and August. You cannot think the slight has gone unnoticed by Young Gold –“ 

Good, Emma thought with some pleasure. If he was half as smart as she’d assumed, he’d move to his next amusement soon enough. 

“Did he ask of it; surely he was not bold enough to demand an answer from you,” Emma asked; wondering if this was the last of Young Gold’s games. 

“I think the man has more pride than to outwardly ask,” Mr. Nolan replied. Her papa’s hands moved apart swiftly as he reached to remove his glasses and massaged his forehead. “He has inquired if you are unwell -” 

“- I think it best if we both speak with candor – if that does not upset you, Emma?” 

“Do we not usually, papa?”

“In many things – but you and I have never had to discuss these matters before. Must admit, I’m not certain how to ask in a delicate way. Observing your behavior in recent months, I had thought you developed an interest for a young man of our acquaintance. And he for you. Knowing this young man to be a hardworking, respectful sort, and having your mother also suspect some level of partiality, I was disposed to let the two of you discover these feelings for your own; expected at least another year or so before he comes to beg a private talk with me and things have to be resolved on my end.” 

The image of Young Gold sitting where she currently sat; of asking papa for her hand, stirred awake the feelings Emma kept hoping to abandon along the wilderness. Perhaps August had been wrong? Maybe another London solicitor had himself a rich heiress and Young Gold was free? Emma allowed herself to hope – but dash them! What reason could August have to be dishonest on such important matters? He called Young Gold a friend as well, did he not?

“What are the questions then, papa? All I’ve heard are speculations. I might have been partial – for a time. But that has long passed!” 

“So there is nothing between yourself –“

“And anyone! Truly!” 

Emma had hoped the problem solved – that her papa would have straightened himself and bid both of them to rejoin the rest of the family in the parlor; that it was as simple as that to return as they all were before. But her assurances seemed to not relax him; there remained a tension in the air. 

“Are you receiving unwanted attention from Young Gold? That is – your mama has informed me,” Mr. Nolan tapered off; looking bashfully unsure how to continue. “Because you’ve been avoiding his company, your mama has suggested that he might have acted ungallantly- I can certainly help here, Emma. If you are uncomfortable or in any way distressed.” 

“What would you do,” inquired Emma. 

“Have a word with both Golds on the matter, if it comes to it! While I do not think Young Gold was trying to disrespect – perhaps I’ve allowed too much liberty; made him feel too familiar with the lot of us. I had known them for sometime – and Young Gold was a very lonely boy when I first met him. I do not believe there is a mean bone in his body but could see him being awkward at courting. And I could see him misconstruing your kindness as encouragement and interest – even if you’d not meant it so. Young Gold probably isn’t even aware of you displeasure. A word from me would discourage any continued harassment -” 

“Then let us not include the older Mr. Gold in the conversation,” voiced Emma. “If Young Gold is not trying to be vexing – and is unaware of the awkwardness he has caused; not to mention how people talk! Surely he visits too often for respectability - ” 

Maybe that was the trouble, as her papa had determined. A lonely, often forgotten child grew into a young man so desperate to be liked – and acts a flirt to please and attract admiration from all. 

“So you do not return any regard for Young Gold,” Mr. Nolan urged. “And I am free to speak with him on regulating his attentions; caution him of it’s appearance?” 

“I agree – I do not think Young Gold acts with malice. But I -,” Emma stammered. There was much she could not tell her papa – leaving Emma feeling a deep strain. She would not be pitied; to reveal the love she carried for the young man. Not even by her kindhearted papa – a more perfect shoulder to cry on she doubted would ever be found! Nor could she explain her hopelessness; that he was engaged to wed another. Even now there seemed an equal need to protect Young Gold but also to limit her exposure to him. “ –I do not want his attentions and wish him to leave me be. As gently as you can, papa, could you convey this to Young Gold?” 

Mr. Nolan nodded; rising and offering a hand to his daughter. 

“Consider the matter closed,” he promised. “Your papa will take care of you, Emma.” 

The Reverend Nolan yet again managed to console a member of his flock; Emma knowing – even if not all was revealed by the end of the evening – that her papa and Alexandra were allies of deepest merit. A sense of security and stability engulfed her. 

Emma no longer felt on guard; no more finding herself looking towards the nearest window just in case Young Gold was riding up. She had blissful days with her family! Enjoying the chaos of the little Nolans’ presence while she still could. Late one afternoon, Leo and Anna had devised – what to them – was a genius plan! They’d hidden her trunk and scattered her various belongings around the cottage.

Mrs. Nolan was at a loss! Having overseen the packing of the trunk with great care, Emma could now hear their mama chastising the pair near the staircase. Emma, with the help of Eva and Nova now moved room to room in their diligent hunt; separating to conquer all. Exiting Mr. Nolan’s study with stockings in hand, Emma could see them now; Leo and Anna standing defiantly under their mother; Mrs. Nolan almost reddened in anger as she demanded they locate each item and return them upstairs. 

“- We cannot even find the trunk,” Mrs. Nolan seethed. “If either of you wade Emma’s trunk into the pond I will seriously –“ 

“I plundered,” Anna argued. “And it’s now my booty and I shalt return it-“ 

“We don’t want Emma to go,” Leo pressed earnestly.

“No we don’t,” agreed Anna. “It’s not fair she leaves without us – we’ll miss her!” 

Mrs. Nolan was making no progress and Mr. Nolan was out; paying a call in Castleshire if Emma remembered correctly. 

“Emma,” rang Eva’s voice from upstairs. Emma crossed the hall to return the call; pausing to wink at her younger siblings distressed faces before calling up the stairs, “What have you found now, Eva?” 

Black curls dangled over the banister as Eva waved a book from the top floor.

“Is this not yours?”

Emma nodded, “Where did we find this one?”

“In with Leo’s toy soldiers!”

Emma turned back to Leo and Anna, “Really? I feel I’ve failed the pair of you if you actually hide the majority of your plunder with your own toys! Had much better hidden them with Sophia’s dolls.”

Little Sophia walked out of the kitchen with a frown; holding a doll protectively at her front. 

“But I’ve not done anything,” Sophia whined; her chin wriggling as if she’d cry. 

“Of course you’ve not,” Mrs. Nolan replied gently to Sophia. “You are my perfect angel – Leo and Anna have been very naughty! Emma: don’t encourage them so!” 

“I’m hardly encouraging them, mama,” Emma called as she began to climb the stairs; taking the book out of Eva’s hand at the last step. 

“Best check the nursery again,” Emma dryly remarked to Eva; flipping through the book absentmindedly. She abandoned it on the window seat days ago – almost forgotten that her mama had put it out for traveling – her place was now marked! Emma was confused when she felt an added weight on the page she’d left off; a piece of heavy parchment place inside. 

“Eva -,” stuttered Emma. “ – Would you head to the nursery? I – I’ll go place this in our room and follow.” 

With her door securely shut Emma opened the book once more; pulling forth the parchment. The opposite side bared another drawing; dreadfully similar to the first she’d found in another book; the daisy she’d kept all these months in her writing desk.

Yet again in pencil – but more careful details then the first; swirling shadows relaying a surprisingly realistic depth to the drawing. The artist had spent more time on this one, Emma supposed. But it was more purposeful – a commission the artist made just for her. 

It was a fiddle this time on a darkened background; a bow seemingly in mid-movement as swirls and music notes bounced across the strip of parchment. Emma could almost feel the rhythm of the Scottish reel echoing from the page. She sank onto the bed, realizing one mystery solved: Young Gold was quite an accomplished artist! Another positive trait to add reluctantly to her lists. 

There was a turning in her stomach when she thought of Young Gold sneaking the drawing into her book – wondering if the daisy had been an early offering as well. Was this part of the game for him? Drawing little gifts for the silly young girls of his acquaintance? 

Whatever their meaning, she could not bring herself to throw either into the fire later that night; instead staring at them curiously – running her fingers over the penciled music notes as she remembered their dance and the moment after: when she realized herself in love. She’d placed both of them carefully in the book – hoping it looked like she was reading by the candlelight. Eva at least was not questioning why Emma had not turned a page all evening. 

Finally willing to snap the book closed, Emma placed it under her pillow; telling herself not to assume there was any meaning in the offerings – however they made her heart swell. 

Eva turned over, rearranging herself at Emma’s side. 

“I’ll miss you,” Eva muttered

“And I you,” reassured Emma. 

“And this is going to be a cold winter without sharing a bed with you,” Eva retorted with a grin. “I’d try with Anna but the little terror probably sleeps with frogs and the like!” 

“So mama told you about my trunk? Up in the attic, Nova found it – filled with frogs! Poor Nova shrieked with fright at the noise they made!” 

Eva giggled into the pillow, “They are going to be a handful!”

“Every year I think they’ll mature a bit more,” Emma replied. “And every year I’m delighted to discover they only get more rowdy! Anna and Leo at least will always keep us amused!” 

Eva rolled closer; head leaning on Emma’s shoulder, “Emma -You are well, aren’t you?” 

Of course Eva would also sense something amiss. At least she’d been too young for the ball – or Emma was certain Eva would have witnessed it all. If not, Eva would have seen enough to implore Emma to reveal it all; every detail and the drawings would follow. Fingers reaching under the pillow to stroke the spine of her book, Emma replied, 

“I shall be wonderful, Eva. Who wouldn’t be so when they’re leaving for London in the morning?” 

Emma watched Eva fall asleep; trying to memorize the feeling of comfort – of having her family so close at hand. Her fingers brushed the book again – leaving her wondering if she’d miscalculated by having her papa speak to Young Gold; fearing what was said by both parties! The greater dread was realizing it was too late to change her mind by now – leaving Emma feeling a misery beyond her years; wondering if she’d blundered in judgment. Sixteen was too young to feel so utterly hopeless and lost. Especially on the eve of her first trip to town!


	14. Dinner with the Major and Mrs. Buelle

“What is Mrs. Blue like,” Emma asked as she stared out the carriage window; marveling at the tall, limestone buildings as they passed. Even with evening falling, the London streets were packed with commotion. Torches were being lite on the street corners. Some men and women clearly headed for home after a long day – many a younger person starting their evening crawl. Emma flushed when the younger men noticed her in the carriage; sweeping their hats off towards the speeding rig. 

“Mrs. Buelle,” the Widow Talbot corrected. “Seraphina Buelle is – possibly – one of the most important women in London these days. I’ve only met her on occasion, though. It is her husband, the Major, I count as a friend. Back in our youths, it was he and my first husband who I explored India with!”

Emma nodded; hoping to remember to say ‘Buelle’ in the future. It would be their first evening out in London – invited to a dinner party thrown by Major and Mrs. Buelle; a couple widely acknowledge for their respectability and influence over the London scene. By now, Emma had been in London for almost a week– Mrs. Talbot lamenting how lacking society was at the moment; a fact attributed to the wonderful hunting found in the country presently. Many a sportsman had decided to remain longer than usually to enjoy their pursuits – and many families had chosen to delay opening their London homes until the snows forced them all in!

While Emma was certain she could do without the invitations and gaiety of large society, the freezing rain had kept her trapped within Mrs. Talbot’s home; not even able to walk the fine looking park that stood opposite the stately house with it’s prestigious address.

“I do worry the lot of us may be too old for your enjoyment,” admitted the Widow as they stopped outside a large house with tall, elegant windows. “I promise to find more amusement when I can for you –“

“I’m already indebted, Mrs. Talbot, by you hosting me,” Emma assured her. “Please do not think you must entertain me as well. I’m sure they will be delightful people and we’ll have a wonderful evening!” 

“That is good of you to say,” the Widow replied as they were helped out of the carriage. “But I’ll not rest till you’ve attended whatever play is most modern – or been to an assembling ball and fought over by a mob!” 

“Mrs. Talbot – “ 

“I’ve not had Leroy bring down my finest weapons for my own amusement – not entirely, anyway! I hope to get a chance to use them properly once more. Did my granddaughter never tell your mother of when I met the good Doctor at our front door; banishing my great musket and ready to aim! It was early in his courtship of Ruby -”

“Somehow I think both the Doctor and Mrs. Lucas managed to keep that quiet!“

“Well I want it to be known I take your care as my charge very seriously; be it to supply entertainment or guard you well!” 

“I sure then I shall be properly entertained,” Emma laughed; recalling Widow Talbot’s grand London home boasted a weapon on almost every wall – the entryway alone practically a museum of historic bows and longbows. And all, Emma knew, kept in perfect condition by Mrs. Talbot and her handy servant Leroy! Their bows and firearms worked as well as when they were first made! If anyone so much as looked at Miss Nolan strangely under Mrs. Talbot’s watched, the Widow was already itching to test her collection yet again! 

The tall, blue door opened up to a hallway glistening in crystals and candlelight. Emma and Mrs. Talbot were shown through a door – where their hostess waited; basking in an ethereal glow from even more decadent crystal-candlelight. 

Mrs. Seraphina Buelle had to have been twenty years younger than Emma expected to find; a petite figure with dark brown hair arranged in an elaborate headdress of fine gems – all colored of greens and blues. A long, silk evening dress cut to reveal more than Emma dared to see on anyone back home! But there was still a classical nature to the women in her smart, modern dress. She walked, at least, with enough confidence to always be seen in a fashionable light! 

Mrs. Buelle welcomed to the newcomers with arms outstretched; a sneer - passed off as a smile -in place. 

“Mrs. Talbot,” greeted the hostess. “I was so pleased to hear you’d be joining us in dreary, old London yet again – and this must be the clergyman’s daughter!”

Never before had Emma felt her papa’s profession thrown out as an insult. It certainly hadn’t been in Castleshire! Reverend Nolan was a kind, deeply admired leader of their community – and Emma’s mama was highly accomplished and well-breed! Let now she felt the sting of the words ‘clergyman’s daughter’; fired with such contempt - as if she’d something to be ashamed of! Emma composed herself; curtseying in union with Mrs. Buelle – though sinking a bit lower than Mrs. Buelle could manage in return. Clearly a clergyman’s daughter of little import and not requiring equal manner or care to a fine London lady!

“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Buelle,” Emma muttered; straining to behave as she’d been raised. Even if her only a child of a country clergyman, Emma had enough pride to show the great care her parents took in raising her with respect for all. 

“Not at all, not at all,” their hostess replied; already scanning those gathered for a true equal. “Now let’s make the introductions – I’m afraid we are quite outnumbering the male sex this evening! I could not find the smart young men, as hard as I looked – isn’t that right, Major?” 

Receiving no reply, Mrs. Buelle turned around harshly; glaring at the far chaise where Emma noticed an older gentlemen sprawled out – snoring gently on his side. He was a large man; long limbed with a protruding belly. He had the look of a formally active man who’d fallen out of commission long ago – way past the point of caring a dolt about appearance! The long, gray sideburns tickled the satin cloth of the chaise where he slept. The guests present were doing a decent job of pretending to have not noticed their host’s current state – his wife the only one viewing it with true distaste. 

“Honestly – RIP! Rip wake up,” Mrs. Buelle screeched. Major Rip Buelle did not wake – however unused to being ignored his wife appeared. Had not his chest been heaving rhythmically, Emma would have worried the graying man long dead. 

Mrs. Buelle sighed deeply, “Miss Nolan,” she indicated to Emma. “And Mrs. Talbot. Let me introduce you both to our party! Lt. and Mrs. Scarlett; lately returned from abroad –“ 

The young couple seated by the fire rose to greet them. They were a handsome pair – Mrs. Scarlett blonde with sharp features; her husband dark and trying not to laugh when he glanced towards the Major. 

“Lt. Scarlett trained under the Major years ago,” Mrs. Buelle explained; waving a dismissive hand towards the chaise. “He is only too use to this behavior –“ 

“Indeed,” Lt. Scarlett replied with a smirk. “The man could sleep while under fire – which is actually very helpful for a military man -” 

“It’s nothing but vexing,” retorted Mrs. Buelle. “You are lucky he’d long retired or you’d never have defeated Napoleon!” 

Mrs. Talbot ignored the slight on her old friend and turned to address the Scarletts. 

“Where were you stationed abroad,” the Widow inquired. 

“All over,” remarked Mrs. Scarlett with a voice smooth and clear. “More lately near Brussels.”

“Were you there during the Battle of Waterloo,” Emma questioned. 

“Of course,” Mrs. Scarlett answered; calmly like it was nothing spectacular. “My husband fought there – and I saw no reason to shy away myself! I might not have been one to pack a picnic like the rest of the wives but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world!” 

The Scarletts caught each other’s gaze and smiled; Emma regarding the pair in awe of what they’d experienced together. 

“Quite brave,” praised Mrs. Talbot; echoing Emma’s own thoughts. 

“Now – who else don’t you know,” Mrs. Buelle cut in; seeming to be annoyed the attention had shifted off herself. “My niece, lately joined us here in London. Miss Saint-Lang de Bellegarde.” 

Yet another blonde woman – smaller and younger than Mrs. Scarlett, sat opposite the Major. Miss Saint-Lang de Bellegarde wrinkled her nose at her aunt’s introduction; quickly begging both newcomers to simply call her Isabelle! 

A year or two older than Emma, the pair immediately sought the other out; Isabelle motioning Emma to join her at the edge of the room. 

“I’ve already decided we shall be fast friends,” declared Isabelle without pausing. “And you must admit ‘Miss Saint-Lang de Bellegarde’ is frightfully tedious! I doubt my forbearers could have found a more unpleasant name – something that could never easily roll-off the tongue – but most about my family is frightfully tedious! You must see that having met my aunt. I’ve been here a whole three months and was about ready to start plugging my ears each morning before heading downstairs – my aunt may be the most influential woman in London but it is simply because she’s badgered everyone into thinking so -”

“She does seem rather controlling –“ 

“She cannot bare to have things not go her way! Even the little details! I cannot blame that poor man for sleeping most of the day – canon fire is nothing compared to her! She is simply beyond herself at having to deal with me; cannot stand that society has been so lacking that I’ve found no husband yet to take me off her hands – but never mind that ordeal! Have you been to the theatre yet? Attended any concerts?” 

“No,” Emma shook her head. “I gather there has not been much to attend –“ 

“Quite so! I think my aunt had hopes that this evening would start everything up again proper – so you can see how disappointed she finds things. Unequal numbers – and not a smart enough set. Oh – I mean nothing against yourself! I include myself as well! We’re simply not what she’d planned for – and she plans a great deal in advance!” 

“Where are you from,” Emma inquired. Noting that the Miss Saint-Lang de- … that Isabelle had a heavy accent of something not quite local; growing more pronounced the faster she spoke.   
“Ireland - land of wilds and greenery! Must admit I’d prefer it there sometimes. But my parents decided to visit the continent for an extended time - my mother seeking the warm climate off Italy for her health - and it was decided I’d better stay here in London with the Buelles. What joy for me,” Isabelle rolled her eyes and laughed. 

The door creaked open as another joined the party – the young lady Emma recalled Sir Archibald dancing with at the ball. Her confidence was long gone – shoulders slumped over as she rushed past Mrs. Buelle. Mrs. Buelle made no point in introducing the late girl to the rest so Isabelle took lead. 

“Miss Nolan – would you mind if I called you Emma,” Isabelle requested; Emma cheerfully shook her head the negative. “This is my companion from Ireland: Miss Glinda Fairchild. A little piece of home I’m delighted to have here –“

“But I believe I’ve seen you before, Miss Fairchild,” Emma chanced. “Were you not – several weeks hence – dancing at a ball in Castleshire; some miles from here?” 

Glinda nodded; eyeing Mrs. Buelle out of the corner of her eye, “I had the pleasure of visiting family near there,” replied Glinda in a low voice. 

Both young women were as different as night and day; Isabelle open and clear to all observers – society be damned if they’d not like what she had to say! But not Miss Fairchild. There was something hidden in her demeanor; a secret she wasn’t willing to reveal to just anyone; flickering just on the surface of pale green eyes. 

In truth they made a perfect partnership – a fact cemented during the meal. Mrs. Buelle had an exorbitant amount of food; servants carrying something back to the kitchen only for another to bring forth several more exquisite dishes. Mrs. Buelle seemed at least pleased with the display she’d concocted; ringing a bell lazily with a smug smirk. 

“I believe I knew your mother, Miss Nolan – we debuted together in London… how ever many years ago,” Mrs. Buelle called down the table; trying to sound an easy laugh for those gathered. “She was a Miss Mary Margaret Blanchard, was she not?” 

Emma found it hard to imagine her mother – however young – being intimate chums with the hostess; seemingly both women’s manners would always have been at odds with the others. Still, Emma nodded; almost replying with polite remarks about mentioning Mrs. Buelle in her next letter home – but was interrupted the moment her mouth opened. 

“She was quite admired – was such a shame she had no mind to make London her permanent residence. For there were many a man all too willing to take her on – and to choose a country-clergyman, fresh from the farms -“ 

“But fortunate, I’m sure, for Miss Nolan,” Miss Fairchild interceded. Finding a glimmer of the confidence Emma recalled seeing at the ball. “Or she’d not be here with us today! So I think Mrs. Nolan made a very sound choice!” 

“I certainly agree,” Isabelle cheered. “It is so strange when people remark on our parents past beaus, I think. Aunt – would you believe a woman in Dublin actually introduced herself to me as my ‘almost mummy’? Things happened – children made decisions; became adults and parents. It is silly to dwell on what might have been – I’m sure you agree, Mrs. Scarlett!” 

“Naturally,” Mrs. Scarlett agreed. “I may no longer be so young as some present – no old enough to truly boast experience. But with an open heart and gentle mind I found my perfect match! Who am I to question the past when it has sent me to right where I needed to be?”

Lt. Scarlett reached for his wife’s pale hand; bringing it tenderly to his lips with a smile. 

“So you are admitting there were several rivals about,” Lt. Scarlett joked. 

“I’m admitting that I could not be happier,” professed his wife in a raspy breath. 

Major Buelle had no comment to make on marital happiness – nodding off already at the head of the table. His lady rolling her eyes at the sight. 

“The theatres should be premiering new plays soon,” Mrs. Buelle announced; changing the conversation hurriedly. 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Widow Talbot replied. “For I’d hoped to take Emma to whichever was deemed most fashionable these days –“ 

“The Theatre Royal is still the most respectable. The other West End theatres,” Mrs. Buelle shuddered. “There’s no telling on any given night you’ll leave entertained! Some use lewd and crassness to extreme – other’s seem to only attract the trite of writing to their doors -” 

“I’ll inquire than, shall I, to see what plays we can take these three to,” Major Buelle declared after what Emma assumed was a snore. He gestured to Mrs. Talbot excitedly, “We are not too old, Aggie, I think. Not to old to show these young women a good time!” 

“Nothing good will be preformed,” Mrs. Buelle insisted. Looking quite pleased in dashing her husband’s plans. “Not until there’s actually a crush of society to attend! I must caution you to refrain until such time –“ 

It wasn’t long after their dinner that the chaperones all got their wishes– overnight a great gale of a snowstorm blew all stragglers into London; fearing to be snowed out for months on end otherwise. 

Houses opened and venues started filling up as the pomp started up again. Even Major Buelle awoke long enough to accompany the Widow Talbot, Isabelle, Glinda, and Emma to the theatre one night – Mrs. Buelle already promised elsewhere. The ‘poor’ woman seemed cast-down at not having an escort – even one who fell asleep so in public. But entreated everyone that they must attend a soiree she was hosting afterwards – once again gaining control over the plans of all around her! 

“Rippers,” Mrs. Talbot called towards the Major; fanning herself as the group sat in a private balcony box – the three young women leaning over the railing to inspect the stage. “The heat in here rivals India – does it not?” 

Major Buelle appeared to be nodding off already – Emma certain he’d not last the dimming of the lights. Still – he found enough strength to reminisce with the Widow about a tiger hunt he recalled going on with her and her first husband. 

“Is that not Graham,” Isabelle asked Glinda; turning her head to the side to stare down at the audience. “Just there – by the woman in purple?” 

“I think so – it’s strange he should be here,” Glinda voiced. 

“Graham Humbert,” Isabelle informed Emma. “Youngest son of an Irish peer.”

Emma tried to distinguish who the other women were gazing at – but lost him in the crowd; instead finding herself staring downward at none other than Young Gold! Worst yet – their eyes met; holding on to the others as the crowd moved about; looking for seats before the play began. Emma gulped – Young Gold looked equally shocked by her presence before snapping his gaze away; turning his attentions back to the woman at his right – a woman dressed in a golden-yellow frock. Emma watched as the lady in yellow leaned forward to whisper something in Young Gold’s ear. 

Was this his heiress? 

Emma leaned closer to the railing; clutching it as she silently begged the woman in yellow to turn around. Emma found herself having to know exactly what Young Gold’s wife would look like –

“He’s coming to us,” Glinda’s voice made Emma jump; wondering how Young Gold could possibly get to the balcony so quickly. She might have fallen off if not for Isabelle grabbing her shoulder. 

“No reason to be nervous,” Isabelle cautioned. “They really are splendid chaps!” 

And thus entered two young, hot-blooded, Irish men into the box – each of the three girls smirking with satisfaction at the sight offered. 

“I dare say,” Isabelle greeted. “We thought we saw you down there – and Mr. Jefferson is a pleasant surprise as well!” 

Glinda made introductions, “May I present the Major Buelle, Mrs. Talbot, and Miss Nolan –“ 

The Mr. Jefferson seemed to process a manic energy; nodding respectfully but then fidgeting where he stood. The other man, Mr. Graham Humbert, took a seat behind Emma; graciously inquiring if all the young ladies were enjoying their time in London – making a point of including Emma in the conversation as well. Where the Irish youths talked with a familiarity made out of years of acquaintance – Glinda even capable of getting Mr. Jefferson to participate at times – Mr. Humbert was always diligent to involve Emma as well. The mark of a true gentleman, Emma decided. Of showing such politeness to never let anyone feel ill at ease - Emma found he had the most charming and happy nature – and a most pleasing smile. 

“You live in Ireland, sir,” Emma asked. 

“Grew up there, yes. But I’ve long been a city-boy now! I gather I’ve made London my home for the past year – so none of you need fret. If I can manage here the three of you will thrive!”

“Your attention please,” called a short little man; waddling to the center of the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen – we are honored to announce a great change in our theatre. Moving into the modern era, we are now lite entirely with the scientific marvel of gas-light –“ 

The audience erupted in applause as sharply dressed footmen marched down the aisles; diminishing all candlelight so the gas-lite chandelier the only focal point in the room; Emma staring upward curiously. 

“Do you think it shall be the end of us, Miss Nolan,” quipped Mr. Humbert; turning his head upward to match her own. It was like regarding the heavens, Emma thought. Brighter than any candlelight she’d ever seen; the flames dancing higher as well – rippling into the darkness. The theatre even had little gas lamps surrounded the now empty stage. 

“I worry about the next generation,” Major Buelle admitted; head jerking towards the stage. 

“Not sure I trust the vapors,” admitted Widow Talbot. “They could be slowly killing us –“ 

“Surely not,” Isabelle interrupted. “Most of the main streets now are lite by gas lights, are they not? It’s progress, I think.”

“Maybe it is not so dangerous outside – but progress does not make it right,” the Major implored; Mrs. Talbot eagerly agreeing. 

“At least the people below don’t have to worry about candlewax dripping on them during the play now,” Emma observed. 

Mr. Humbert complimented her, “Well said, Miss Nolan! As one of they to be seated below, I appreciate the consideration!” 

Neither Miss Fairchild or Mr. Jefferson seemed to have a ready opinion on the subject – both quietly eyeing the display. Finally, with a cough to clear his throat, Mr. Jefferson deduced, “They’d had gas lighting in theatres since spring – it’s silly to make a grand announcement as if it was new.”

Glinda was quick to challenge back, “Since I was not in town then – I greatly appreciate the display. Many might have overlooked the spectacle or only mentioned it in passing instead of having this time to sit up and admire the lights before the play starts.”

Miss Fairchild glanced at Mr. Jefferson out of the corner of her eye; seeming to be waiting for an argument. But it was not to be had. Mr. Jefferson only seemed more agitated then before, “The play will be starting soon –we really should –“ 

“If you’ve no plans after,” Emma was amazed to hear the Major call down the seats; the man managing more in the past minutes than days prior. “Perhaps you young men could join us for a meal – I recall the life of the bachelor only too well. My wife is hosting a gathering and could easily accommodate two more to be fed. ” 

Emma wondered if Mrs. Buelle would find fault in having to accommodate two new guests at the last moment – but, from what she’d gleamed out of Isabelle: no party Mrs. Buelle ever threw was meant to be a small affair. With the high numbers currently in the city, a small party could easily mean more than half of those attending the play. 

Isabelle – and even Glinda in a subdued way – were alighted when both men agreed. Emma finding herself growing fond to the pair as they left the box – promising to be seen at the Buelle residence later that night. 

“They seem very –“ Emma stuttered after they’d gone; Isabelle eagerly nodding in agreement. 

“Very handsome, are they not? And a good sort – even Glinda could be heartedly in love with Mr. Humbert!” 

“Lower your voice,” Glinda implored. “They might yet hear you – and I am certainly not! Men and women can enjoy the other without either party feeling any inclination towards –“ 

“Hush – I was only teasing! At least my uncle was good enough to invite them back with us. Maybe aunt will find her numbers all balanced and pleasing tonight?” 

It was a new play, Emma learned when the curtains rose– not that she’d have minded something performed every year on the dot for her first theatrical event! Set during the reign of King James VI, three couples fumbled about in their romances at court. An impractical premise of misunderstandings and over complications, Emma decided early on about the plot! However, she laughed heartedly with the crowd – even blushed at some of the more licentious humor. 

When one of the young heroines were being chased around a giant, four-poster bed by a much older – and married – lord, Emma jumped when Major Buelle started snoring in their box; trading smirks with Glinda and Isabelle as all three young women tried to contain their laughter behind hands.

It ended the only proper way possible – a great number of weddings! And, of course, the scoundrel who tried to seduce the maid murdered in a duel. The last actor on stage read out a monologue suggesting the prescription to not finding one’s self in these predicaments and the curtains fell. The audience leaping to their feet in appreciation of the actors feats – and to begin the stampede heading out of the theatre and into the still early night. 

When Emma found herself separated from her group, surrounded by strangers, she did the only sensible thing possible: moved in the direction all else were heading– towards the massive staircase and the front of the theatre. 

“Emma!” 

Emma paused before the stairs; turning to find Mrs. Gold behind her. Feeling incredibly foolish after noting Mrs. Gold was dressed in the golden-yellow dress – Young Gold must have accompanied his stepmother this evening! Not a lover! 

“My it’s good to see you at last,” Mrs. Gold greeted her; bringing the younger girl into a hug. “Did you like the play? I’ve only just arrived so it’s my first in awhile.”

“My first ever – so I have nothing to compare it with. But it seemed very magical and happy!”

Mrs. Gold smiled at her fondly, “Indeed! Well said! Everyone got what they deserved in the end and the good people found each other and married. Don’t know if I could have stomached a tragedy to start the season with. Are you enjoying your stay so far? London all you’d hoped for –“ 

“It has certainly been a great change.” 

“You must call on me some mornings,” Mrs. Gold appealed. “We might walk this fine piece of park around my home. You don’t think it possible to stay with me for part of your stay – we’d bedrooms of plenty and you would be most welcome?” 

The idea of being so easily accessible to Young Gold dissuaded Emma from even considering Mrs. Gold’s kind offer. A flush of color rising to her cheeks at the mere thought of Young Gold knowing where her bedchambers were located in his father’s home! 

“I think not, Mrs. Gold. Mrs. Talbot has been so attentive and I would not wish to slight her in the least,” replied Emma steadily.

“Very sound judgment,” Mrs. Gold praised. “You know – Mr. Gold and myself had just been talking of you; remarking how polished you were. Especially for your age- such a pleasing nature!” 

Emma could hardly imagine this so – Mr. Gold at least did not seem one interested in discussing young people of his acquaintance at length. Or anyone at length! But why was Mrs. Gold reporting such? And she seemed so serene and calm about her musings.

“Now – where is my son? I’m sure he’d love to hear your thoughts on the play –“

Mrs. Gold stood on her toes to scan the corridor; Emma panicked and wished to flee – and Young Gold seemed to have had a similar goal. Mrs. Gold ended up practically dragging him into their cloister. 

“You know I am short – it’s not fair to go hiding when you know I’ll never find you in this crowd,” Mrs. Gold chided her stepson; pushing him closer to Emma than either young person seemed to desire. 

An awkward silence engulfed the pair; both staring at their feet or elsewhere to start. Only a look from Mrs. Gold had Young Gold, bashfully, start, “Miss Nolan –“ a stiff nod as his hands went behind him. “Are you enjoying your trip?” 

“Very much so,” Emma replied dryly; grateful when she saw Mrs. Talbot marching towards the group. Miserable when the Widow greeted the Golds with, “I hear you’ve also been invited to Mrs. Buelle’s after-party? What luck!” 

What luck, indeed, Emma grimaced. 

“Ah – I used to attend them before I married. Mad outings and all! I managed to drag your father to one,” she addressed to Young Gold. “But both he and Mrs. Buelle informed me it was never to be repeated again! The two are simply oil and water!” 

Mrs. Talbot and Gold continued to converse – Emma barely picking up pieces of their talk before feeling Young Gold’s fingers brushing against the fabric of her dress; inching closer to plead, “May I have a word with you in private, Miss Nolan?”

“Certainly not,” Emma muttered back. Whatever her papa told him had clearly not done the job! 

“Please,” he begged. Emma looked up and almost sighed with pleasure– his eyes and face so earnest and near – 

“Even if I allowed it,” Emma whispered back. “I’m not sure how we could have a private talk. One is never alone in London, I find.” 

Young Gold nodded with understanding; looking around at the enclosed mob. The gathering at the Buelles would not be much lighter a crowd. 

“It may be difficult: yes. But – if it does not offend you – I should like to try. I’m not entirely sure what has happened. Your father and I had a long talk – at the very least, I know I owe you an apology!” 

“Lower your voice,” Emma hissed back. 

“- I never meant to come across as anything but –“ 

“Shall we head down,” Mrs. Talbot asked all four; motioning to the theatre doors. 

Emma found the same boldness she’d discovered at the ball, pushing forward to whisper into Young Gold’s ear, “If you want to issue an apology to me: find a way.” 

This did not go unnoticed by either Mrs. Talbot or Mrs. Gold – though neither seemed to hear what Miss Nolan had whispered. The proximity of Young Gold and Emma was noted by both - Mrs. Gold in particular seemed most pleased by the display. 

“Dear me,” Emma heard Mrs. Gold telling her stepson as Emma and Mrs. Talbot were helped into their carriage. “ – I hope we did not interrupted something exciting back there-“ 

The challenge had been issued, Emma mused. If Young Gold thought he could explain himself – let him try! Papa was not on hand to fight this battle- and Emma, however confused, did not wish Mrs. Talbot to fire upon Young Gold. It was upon herself to navigate the issue!


	15. Young Gold Confesses!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Chapter re-uploaded on August 2nd. with additional content.* 
> 
> So you might have noticed the change in rating - might not of. But there has been a shift from the 'G' rating! This chapter does contain a sexually suggestive scene.

He was starting to understand that his step-mother always had a scheme in mind –very much like her husband, come to think of it. Though Mrs. Gold’s plots would be carried through with a bright smile – B. N. Gold wasn’t sure he enjoyed either his papa or new mama’s intrusions at times. Most of his life, Neal had been glad to opt out of any real decision-making – was a far more pleasant existence than to fight his papa at every turn. Sure he’d had begged to not be shipped off to boarding school: and failed at that. The rest seemed easy enough to go along with. Of course he’d attend Oxford – if it meant so much to papa. Of course he’d go into law as well, spending almost every waking moment of the past three years at the offices that now read: **Gold & Son**.

His only successful acts of rebellion had been a trip abroad to visit what remained of his mother’s people. As much of a disappointment as that trip turned into, Neal knew it was an act of honor to try and make peace. And of course Dover: his papa still did not know of Dover -

Yet here he sat – one late afternoon, freshly returned to his father’s house from **Gold & Son** – trying to ascertain a small level of independence; to once again act in a manner he knew for himself to be honorable. Neal did not want to continue being the lost boy; grabbing on to the coattails of adults and praying they saw him to right.

He stared down at his initials again, a present from his papa –for every intelligent solicitor needed fancy stationary of his very own, apparently. But Neal was less than enthused –

The parchment under his fingers was far too fine. The embedded letters far too certain. **_B. N. Gold_**. It was better than his full name:

Baelfire Percival Walter Neal Jasper Gold would be the unfortunate moniker his schoolmaster announced upon his arrival at boarding school – luckily they’d only used family names when addressing pupils in the everyday; leaving him to become ‘Gold’. But ‘Gold’ had always been what everyone called his papa – not him! Papa called him ‘Bae’ – his step-mother usually doing the same. Unless she was being playful by calling him ‘Curly’. His mother – God, wherever she’d been – had apparently favored ‘Neal’. And ‘Neal’ was much more manageable in everyday talk to ‘Baelfire’ – boys at school had assumed that name a poor, Scottish joke!

He would never blame his papa for the naming. Mr. Gold had assumed this one son would have been it – and did not all the fine, fancy men in London coin such long, important names to match their status?

But the younger Mr. Gold found himself at a loss – as he read through a letter he’d drafted in a frenzy the night before. The issue had weighed on his conscience for the entire trip from Castlshire to London.

 

_Miss Nolan,_

 

For Miss Emma, or simply Emma, would be far too forward, he’d convinced myself. Even ‘Dear Miss Nolan’ had seemed too outgoing in light of Mr. Nolan’s revelations.

 

_I am heartedly sorry to have caused any offense on your good person. That my impertinence has offended and caused you pain leaves me positively wretched. I beg your pardon and ask for the ability to renew our friendship in a manner more acceptable for your comfort. Your father made it perfectly clear that anything greater would be unsatisfactory with your feelings and wishes at this time –_

 

But Mr. Nolan had also suggested Miss Nolan’s youth and inexperience could have been a contributing factor to this unease – mixing quite shamefully with his own over-attentive nature.

Initially, he’d asked Mr. Nolan for permission to court her when his actions had been brought into question – rejected, of course, as Mr. Nolan knew his daughter ill at ease in Neal’s company. For that, Baelfire Percival Walter Neal Jasper Gold would forever be ashamed! Had he disciplined his favor and not been so blatant - a year or two might have found himself a happier man than his future currently seemed possible.

 

_Please know I meant no discourtesy– and stand by all compliments directed towards yourself. I would be willing to accept any degree of acquaintance you find favorable at the time and pray my consistency and honest admiration proves myself a faithful friend till the end._

 

A hand rested itself on his shoulder. Neal was quick to tense – covering his letter hastily with his arm; smearing any revisions made presently to the draft. 

“Your father did write lovely letters,” Mrs. Gold remarked. Peering down to see if any words still visible. “When we’d only just met; when he felt he left me most offended after every visit -and quite rightfully so – he’d write. I think I fell in love then: equal parts from his apologizes in letters and his arguments in person.“ 

“Thought you were he,” Neal admitted sheepishly; leaning back in his chair. Mrs. Gold scanned the letter; clucking her tongue in disapproval.

“You certainly have not your father’s skill in love-lettering,” Mrs. Gold estimated. His father’s wife reached to grab the quill from Neal’s fingers, twirling it around in a flourish as she revised his words. “Not once do you even declare yourself, Bae – and why so formal? No – letters are the chief issuer of passions that have yet to remain chaste! This is well the best opportunity to express –“

“It is an apology,” he insisted. “Nothing more – nothing less. Mr. Nolan has been very clear over what is respectable and where I’ve encroached –“

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Gold quipped; continuing to write of burning passions and the like; enough to make her step-son red to his hairline.

“You go too far,” he finally declared after reading a long passage; using his own thumb to smudge out it’s existence.

 Mrs. Gold dropped the quill only to look down at him with pity. Smoothing his hair to remind, “This may all just be confusion – soon to be righted. It is much better to be earnest and forthright than to always wonder what might have been.” 

There was a loud thud down the hallway; Mrs. Gold moved quickly back to the chaise, muttering,

“That will be your father – pretend I’ve been relaxing here the whole time or he’ll make a fuss of us going to the theatre tonight.“

Neal smiled at his step-mother; all too aware of what the now billowing fabric around her middle hid. He was to be a brother. And perhaps this sibling would have gladly taken a name or two had papa planned on falling in love again! Neal hid the letter just as the drawing room doors burst open, the reigning Gold stepping forth in a huff. 

“I cannot believe either of you would even want to head out on a night like this,” the elder Mr. Gold mused; perching on the chaise next to his wife – surveying his son across the room. “It would be much cozier here…“

“You could always come with us, my love,” observed Mrs. Gold; eyeing him fondly. 

“I’ve no taste for it,” her husband spat. Catching his own curtness, he took his wife’s hand in his. “Maybe you’d better stay. Too much excitement cannot be good for the child -“

 Neal did not know whether to laugh or be even more endeared with his papa – it was a different experience to witness Mr. Gold being an overprotective father with another.  First the country was deemed too dangerous for Mrs. Gold’s confinement – now London was! Although Mr. Gold thought better doctors at hand in town this time of year, Young Gold and Mrs. Gold soon realized the expectation was to keep the entire Gold family secured within their London home for the entirety of the season.  

“I’m barely showing,” Mrs. Gold argued. “And Bae will certainly take care of me – if you are certain you’ll not come.”

She still thought, Neal realized, there was a chance for Mr. Gold to change his mind. Neal knew well enough at this point – neither would budge if they thought themselves in the right. 

“At least skip that odious party – Mrs. Buelle! I’m told, my boy,” his papa billowed in Neal’s direction. “- told that I am to refer to her as a ‘Mrs.’ though I doubt the title earned. More a great cow that learned to wear a dress –“ 

“You go too far,” Mrs. Gold cautioned severely. 

Mr. Gold caught himself; nodding as he pat her hand, “And so I did, dear one. I am most sorry- But that woman does little to deserve your kind defense.”

“I’m not sure I think much of her to speak truth,” Mrs. Gold observed. “But no lady could have earned being compared to farm animals –“

“I’ll school my manners,” promised Mr. Gold. “ – however, excluding you my deary, I cannot bare the company of women. If they’re young: as silly and ignorant as can be. And the majority grow into bloodless vipers –“

“I do not find comparing women to snakes better than farm animals,” drooled Mrs. Gold annoyed. “And I am most vexed about your estimations on my sex – I’ve met many a rational woman with a good head on her shoulders. The Miss Nolan, for one –“

Neal stared down at the ink staining his fingers – anywhere was better than his stepmother’s twinkling eyes. He’d even duck out of the room if he thought he could manage it unnoticed.

“Nolan’s little girl,” his papa interjected. Neal tried not to grin – of course his father would deem her just a ‘girl’. Not a radiant creature reigning over all the rest; or a young woman who was near able to set the world on fire with a smile. Just ‘Nolan’s little girl.’ 

“Aye – quite a charming girl, I think,” Mrs. Gold was smug to remark. “I could see great things coming from her –“

“Could you? She was an insolent child, I thought. Far too indulged by both parents – probably the village as well. Nice enough to look at but –“

“A charming partner,” Neal found himself defending. He was not one to contradict his papa unless absolutely necessary – but this was one of those times. A few words against Miss Nolan and Neal located the honorable rebellion he’d been searching for. “I had not the company of a cleverer, prettier young woman in –“

His papa seemed to be reminded Neal was still in the room; raising his head to eye his son with scrutiny. Neal attempted to shift through papers – the draft of his letter, with all of his step-mother’s revisions - hidden deep in the pile. If his papa were to flip through a couple sheets, all to be found would be several case reports that Neal had brought home that day.

“ – what? The whole of Castleshire,” laughed Mr. Gold. “Certainly she’s fine enough for a country girl. Maybe London will give the necessary improvements –“

Mrs. Gold and her stepson locked eyes; an unspoken optimism wavering in the thick air.

“So – Miss Nolan is in London now,” Neal cleared his throat nervously. Eyes darting between parents.

“I do recall Mrs. Nolan talking of it,” Mrs. Gold announced with feign calmness. 

“A brief line from my last correspondence with the Reverend,” Mr. Gold remarked with a flick of his wrist; completely unaware the weight his information held for the rest of the household. 

“Perhaps,” Mrs. Gold gently uttered; fingers lacing with her husband’s as she brought both down to her rounding stomach. “It might do to ask Miss Nolan to stay with us? Since you are so connected with her family – and you and myself might just supply all the is needed to mature her properly to London.”

Neal had never felt more obliged to leap from his chair and kiss his new mama on her cheek – a whole realm of possibilities danced around in his mind’s eye. Of escorting Miss Nolan around town – under the watchful eye of Mrs. Gold, naturally. He could see the pair of them reading in the library – with his mama watching from an open door. He could even tempt her to sit for a sketch… perhaps. His attentions and admiration might not seem so disrespectful under closer acquaintance – to actually have her living in his family house. And when she was comfortable with him as she’d once seemed, maybe he would be able to speak at last.

Mr. Gold took longer to process his thoughts than usual, deciding on, “It might not be the year for that – not in your condition.” 

Neal found himself at the edge of his seat; fumbling with papers as his head jerked forward to carefully listen.

“I am with child,” Mrs. Gold flippantly replied. “Not completely useless  - it might even be better, don’t you think my love? For me to have some female companionship at this time?” 

Mrs. Gold’s eyes doubled in size as they boor into her husband; pleading her case for her. In return, it took the elder man a moment to compose himself from their effects – muttering to himself under breath -

“What was that,” Mrs. Gold playfully asked; certain her stepson could not hear across the room.

“I said it would do to ask Miss Nolan if she would stay with us – for awhile, at least .”

“And,” his Mrs. prompted. 

“And I’m sure she is a very sweet sort of girl,” he lamented in his son’s direction. “And clever- if you think so, Bae.”

That evening at the theatre, Neal could not believe his eyes when he saw Miss Nolan seated in a balcony box – lovelier than he’d remembered even at the ball. She had blossomed, he thought, in London. Positively alight with mirth and beauty as she regarded the stage with a group of young women. When her companions pointed to the crowd, Miss Nolan’s eyes scanned the seats – locking on his own in their search. He read no disdain there – just surprise. She did not look away, pretending to not notice him – like Neal assumed any indifferent (and previously slighted) lady would do. 

Perhaps his actions had not caused Miss Nolan to completely despise him? Turning to help his step-mother to her seat, Neal reached a decision: finding the resolve he needed to face the matter head-on. Emma – Miss Nolan – deserved nothing but complete honesty. If the devotion he felt was love – why not apologize for startling her and declare himself straight away? That would be the actions, Neal was sure, of any honorable gentleman – especially one boasting his number of names! 

Still he found himself skittish after the play, as his step-mother pulled him towards Miss Nolan in the crowd. And what a play for it to have been! Young couples practically danced around each other in silly confusions – but ended up happily married by the end. Could the message have been more hopeful, Neal wondered, for a man in his current predicament? But he found himself perplexed again as Miss Nolan glanced in his direction. This time she quickly adverting her eyes elsewhere - 

The dear girl was positively regal as she tried to ignore him; a curt reply to his greeting sent Neal wondering if he’d terribly misread Miss Nolan’s stare earlier. In truth, he must have misread her behavior even back at Castleshire. His own infatuation could have breed a dream of her sharing a small portion of regard. 

Her dress was the color of moonlight – so pale a golden hue. It was what he remembered viewing in Sir Archibald’s garden all those nights ago. He’d stumbled about, searching the hedges for Miss Nolan, but found nothing but August – his young friend handed him a flask and remarked the dance had long grown a bore. By the time he’d freed himself from August, Miss Nolan was dancing again with a handsome solider – and would not bring herself to gaze over at the foolish, heartsick clerk by the door.

As shocking as it was, Young Gold could not help his fingers from ghosting through the moonlight of her dress – a gentle caress as he watched the colors change in the light; becoming almost watery in appearance. He suspected the fabric would suit Miss Nolan even more if she were dancing. He flinched a moment upon recognizing the warmth radiating from the dress – coming from the maid within. How warm her skin must be, he thought with a blush.

“May I have a word with you in private, Miss Nolan,” he begged like a man dying of thirst. More a man dying of want of moonlight!

“Certainly not,” the elegant little lady muttered; utterly scandalized, he was sure.

He would not have implored her – he should not of, he was sure. This must have been the behavior Mr. Nolan had cautioned against – should he see Miss Nolan again in company. Neal almost chastised himself for the impetuousness– and would have thought himself a dull, selfish fool – had not Miss Nolan pressed herself nearer. Her front rubbing his shoulder as she whispered into his ear, “If you want to issue an apology to me: find a way!”

“ – I hope we did not interrupt something exciting back there,” his step-mother teased as he watched Miss Nolan drive away.

“I think I may be about to act a great fool, dear mama,” Neal observed.

“Good,” she urged him. “You are just the right age for making a complete fool of yourself!”

“Tell me,” he implored. “As a friend – not so much a mother: how possible would it be to find a quiet, solitary place at Mrs. Buelle’s?”

“Dear, I thought we were making bold improvements this night! It’s far too similar to your father to want a quiet place at a grand party. I must insist you try to act young and foolhardy – just once.” 

“And is there anything more ‘foolhardy’ than seeking out a private audience with a young lady there,” Young Gold smirked. “I doubt my father chanced that.”

“No – I was the one who cornered him in the end. Considering past concerns about Miss Nolan,” Mrs. Gold replied as he helped her into the carriage. “- maybe you should not surprise her with an audience –“ 

“Your worry is noted – and I probably would not,” Young Gold promised. “- Had she not told me to try.”

Mrs. Gold looked quite smug on their ride to the Buelles; smacking Young Gold fondly with her fan as they neared.

“Ah – I knew it,” she exclaimed. “I knew from my earliest acquaintance with the Nolans that the two of you would be a match. She had just the air about her – and you need someone like that; sensible but lively! And Miss Nolan will make a perfect winter bride –“

“I think you are progressing things too quickly,” Neal entreated. “She has said I am free to seek her out for an apology – and an apology has always been my intentions upon learning I’d offended. And since you yourself said I’ve no skill at letter-writing – but papa thinks it too soon for me to… it would not do within his plans should anything else be said…” 

“You’ve talked to him already then,” she interrogated.

“Not about Miss Nolan: no,” Neal vaguely answered. Quick to add, “Papa has been pretty insistent that marriage before thirty is the act of a crazed man.  And it’s clear he thinks Miss Nolan still very young – “

“Tosh,” she flung her fan in the air with a laugh. “Age is a number of little significance.”

Well said, Neal thought, as he looked towards the woman only a few years older than himself. They might have been playmates as children, his new mama and himself. It turned out to be a God send - their similar ages allowed for a companionship and comfort to arise quickly between them.

“Sixteen is young,” Neal reasoned. “And there is no reason to rush – I would be content for her to hear my apology and allow us to continue in friendship. Would be full better to learn more of each other before anything serious be mentioned.”

His step-mother looked disappointed for a moment, recovering fast, “I’d not thought both of you to be so very serious and sensible – I’d pegged you as more the dreamer in this match.” 

“And so it might have been,” Neal considered. “But the time has come when I ought to be so – time to, at last, be mature. I’m already taking care of one household as it is –“

“Is all well in Dover,” his step-mother asked; reaching to pat his hand with concern.

Neal nodded tiredly, thankful when the carriage stopped so he’d not have to elaborate. 

Dover – he could not allow himself to think of Dover as he arrived in the Buelle’s fine rooms; searching for the barest glimpse of moonlight-fabric tugging around a blonde nymph. And what an enchanting display the party turned out being! Though Neal knew to expect as much from Mrs. Gold’s stories. Roaring fires seemed to be lit in each room. Footmen, dressed in the finest blue suits, weaved in and out of the gathered mob – not one party-goer had to wait for a refill of the refreshments. Champagne flowed in sparking flutes, Neal and Mrs. Gold being handed a glass each not long after they entered the threshold.

“It’s almost dizzying,” Neal remarked to Mrs. Gold; taking a sip as they walked under a gaudy chandelier.

“Hush,” she muttered back. “Or you’ll be outlawed like your father – do you see Mrs. Buelle? I ought to thank her for the invite –“

“I would not know a Mrs. Buelle if I saw her,” admitted Neal. 

“Dark hair – chooses to only dress in shades of blues. A bit eccentric, maybe.” 

Knowing Mrs. Gold far too short to see past anyone’s shoulder, Neal stood at full height to survey the rooms. The hostess could not be located by his mama’s description – nor the notoriety his papa spoke of. The search left Neal more fearful of finding Miss Nolan in the crowd. Each speck of golden or hue of yellow sent his heart perpetuating – but alas. None were she! Not as the two Golds worked their way from hall to dinning room; from study to drawing room. And then to parlor! 

He’d almost worried she’d chosen to head back to Mrs. Talbot’s instead – until he located her in a group; two men and three girls. Mrs. Gold found Mrs. Talbot at the far end of the parlor– excusing herself from Neal with a sly wink.

“Good luck,” whispered Mrs. Gold. Neal received a final flick from his step-mother’s fan as they parted.

Pausing to calm his breathing, Neal smiled as he neared the back of Miss Nolan’s head - and was only too pleased to balance the numbers as he took his place next to her; like an ever faithful servant at her elbow once again. Waiting for his instructions.

Her greeting was warmer this time; she furtively smiled at him – ready for the chase.

“This is Mr. Gold,” Miss Nolan merrily introduced to the group. Neal bowed to the young ladies – Miss Saint-Lang de Bellegarde and Miss Fairchild; exchanged nods with the men: Mr. Humbert and Mr. Jefferson.

Miss Saint-Lang de Bellegarde animatedly explained their scheme, “Sardines – have you ever played, Mr. Gold?”

“I cannot say I have -”

“Apparently the game is quite fun,” Miss Nolan pronounced with a laugh. “Though I doubt I’ll do well –“ 

“I’m sure you’ll do wonderful, Miss Nolan,” the Mr. Humbert declared – far too familiarly, in Neal’s opinion. Mr. Humbert even supplied a winning smile with his assurances of Miss Nolan’s skill.

“What are the rules,” Neal inquired. Trying to act unbothered by Mr. Humbert earnest good-will.

The Miss Saint-Lang de Bellegarde instructed them, “We blow-out every light in the house – save one per each participant and that’s all! One person will be selected to search the house for an unlikely location and hide there. The rest of us are then charged with searching them out – and, upon discovery, hide at the location as well. The last person to find the group’s hiding place is the first to hide in the next round.”

Neal processed the rules with a smirk – eyeing Miss Nolan with interest before turning to Miss Saint-Lang de Bellegrade for confirmation of his assumptions.

“Whose idea was this game? I think I might have played it before,” he noted.

“Miss Nolan,” Mr. Humbert spoke up. “Very brave – to not have played something but face it head on.”

“Isabelle told me of it the other night,” Miss Nolan offered up lamely. “Seems ideal for large parties.”

Or for giving me a chance to speak with you alone, Neal guessed with glee.  

Mr. Humbert excused himself to speak with the hostess – returning to report she’d allow them the use of the back rooms and upstairs for the game. The announcement made as the crowd divided: many choosing to remain in the comfort of Mrs. Buelle’s roaring fires and fine food. But a brave group of twelve embarked to the back study – Neal assisting the rest as candles were extinguished. Only a doting of candles formed the line as they debated who would hide first.

“I’ve been here before,” claimed Mr. Jefferson dryly. “Seems unfair – like I’d have an upper-hand in hiding right off the back.”

“I’d be fine,” Mr. Humbert assured the rest. “Cannot claim to know the house’s layout anymore than anyone else present– I’d be willing to go first.“

“I am still not entirely sure what we are doing,” admitted Miss Fairchild with a shrug.

“There is only one clear choice,” Miss Nolan observed. Neal waited with baited breath -certain she’d volunteer herself; giving him leave to chase her in their own private game. “- Mr. Gold is the only present who might have played before – though he seems uncertain. Surely he can show us how to play properly.”

He almost missed the mischievous gleam on her face as she raised a candle to make out the faces of all present – but all seemed pleased with the suggestion of Mr. Gold! Mr. Humbert declaring it quite a ‘smashing’ choice. Only Neal himself remained quiet; confused over what the Miss Nolan had in mind for him. Perhaps this whole evening would just be a ruse – a game of vengeance and no opportunity for atonement in sight.

“Come now,” Miss Nolan laughed; waving her hand in Neal’s direction dismissively. “Off with you!”

“So I hide,” Neal addressed solely to Miss Nolan. “And you’ll come find me-“

“That is the general idea – so I’ve been told,” Miss Nolan smirked.

“Do I need to go over the rules again,” Miss Saint-Lang de Bellegrade asked kindly. “Is anyone confused still –“

Miss Fairchild’s hand daintily raised in the air – quickly caught by the Mr. Jefferson’s and brought back downward. Neal vaguely heard the man mutter that he would assist Miss Fairchild in the search to avoid her getting lost.

“Not I,” Neal insisted; eyeing the Miss Nolan with amusement. “I – I have it well sorted.”  

Taking the candle from Miss Nolan’s unexpected hands, Neal exited the study in search; barely hearing the Miss Saint-Lang de Bellegrade call behind him, “You’ve till the count of ten to hide!”

Neal had the good fortune of discovering a doorway under the backstairs. At first, he’d assume it a servants corridor of sorts – maybe leading to the kitchens. But as he eased his way down a narrow tunnel, he noticed several doors on either side of him – and round latches about his height on either wall; spaced several paces apart. Curiosity got the better of him – Neal lost any concern for the game of Sardines and stopped his progress; finding that the round latches swung to the side – allowing for a person to peer into an assortment of spaces.

He passed the study and library – the latter where an older man was sleeping soundly by a fire; snoring away the hours until all went home. The richly furnished parlor that was still alight and packed with a vast mob of society elite – the Mrs. Buelle now center to all within the space. Mrs. Gold’s description made sense now – everything radiated blue around the hostess. He let out a laugh as he recalled his papa’s description – there did seem something cow-ish about Mrs. Buelle as she waved a hand about in her conversation; her nose decidedly pointed downward to all.

Neal couldn’t help to smile when he looked into another space, noting his stepmother seated next to Mrs. Talbot in a quieter seating area. Both seemed to have tired of the loudness around them; conversing quietly with their heads dipped towards the other’s.

At the end of the vast tunnel – an eerie glow was erupting under the final doorway. Neal had heard of spaces like this before – secret passages that allowed great lords to spy and plot against each other. During the civil war, these tunnels had doubtless saved many lives. As he reached the final door, a voice whispered into his ear,

“I think this might just count as cheating.”

Neal spun around – pleased to find Miss Nolan’s light eyes regarding him from the darkness. She’d found him – and none of the others appeared to be following. He had to admire her skill; of locating him right off without bobbling about in the dark like the rest probably were at the moment.

“We were meant to stay in the back of the house – and you stole my candle,” she reprimanded halfheartedly. “I almost tripped on my skirts coming down here –“

 “I am sorry, Miss Nolan –“

“- It is rude to take someone’s candle– and you could have easily just asked!”

“That’s not what I meant… I am sorry for my behavior! I’ve acted so wrongly –“

“It’s only a candle,” she exclaimed; feigning ignorance of his real meaning – for what reason, Neal could not guess! Yet she moved closer to his side; examining the door with interest. “Where are we?” 

“A hidden passage – honestly, I just thought I was heading towards the kitchens but we’ve passed most of the party’s rooms. Have you not looked into them –“

Neal brought her closer to the door; moving the latch as he urged her to look inside.

“My - this is strange,” Miss Nolan announced; closing her spare eye as the other peaked inside the room. “It must be the Major’s billiard’s room – wait! …Ah! Someone’s in there –“ 

He watched Miss Nolan’s excitement with pure delight. Neal found he could care less about seeing the room for himself – would much rather have the Miss Nolan narrate her energetic observations instead.

“ – I think there are two people inside,” she continued. “But it’s quite dark – I don’t think it was meant to be used during the party. It’s not properly lit like the other rooms, at all. Oh – someone’s dropped something! He’s on his hands and knees –“

Neal, fearing the rest of the young folk might come upon them any moment, attempted to turn the conversation back to his apology. Such an opportunity might not present itself again – but he did hate ruining Miss Nolan’s jolly adventures in spying.

“- I truly admire you greatly,” he chanced. “I had no intention of causing offense – there’s nothing I would like more than to find a way to renew our friendship –“

Miss Nolan stepped away from the wall, looking up at him as she bit her bottom lip.

“So we are friends,” she asked quietly.

“Always,” promised Neal. He would be content with that – but then he had promised himself to be honorable; to be his own man. “But – if I can speak in truth, Miss Nolan?”

Miss Nolan gave a nervous laugh, “Is that not what friends do, sir? Please speak freely if we are to be friends.”

Neal nodded in understanding, “I think it’s very important to be honest with someone I have such regard for – you deserve to know of my feelings. But I promise: I mean no harm. A word from you and you’ll never have to hear of this again. I just.. I think you have the right to know my feelings are greater for you than any other friend I’ve known. Or will ever know.”

Her face scrunched; eyes almost pouring out with emotion as Miss Nolan entreated, “What do you categorize this ‘regard’ and ‘admiration’ as, Mr. Gold?”

“Love,” he replied simply; finding himself smiling upon it’s utterance. Admitting the word aloud cementing it in his heart. He was in love with Miss Emma Nolan of Castleshire. “I know this is sudden but I do love you, Miss Nolan –“

She interrupted his blundering confession; gaze firm as her arms crossed over her front, “And… you are in a position to declare such? There are no complications or concerns – “

Neal had a feeling he was being scolded – yet he was not certain what for. Still she’d not slapped him. Or retreated away telling him to never speak to her again. Neal thought being scolded like a naughty child a much better fate than being denied outright. 

“I have… that is to say no: I’ve not. But then yes…,” Neal muttered awkwardly; looking down to find the lovely Miss Nolan glaring daggers into his skull. “I am definitely not in a position to offer much of anything to anyone.”

And that was the truth. He had very little on his own accord; working and living by his papa’s leave. Marital bliss was a far away dream. When she pushed past him to flee, Neal boldly grabbed her hand. It was the first contact he’d have with her skin – so soft and warm. He threaded his fingers with her’s, gently pulling her back to him.

“That is: presently I cannot offer more than my love and admiration,” he tried to explain. “And my devotion and friendship, of course!”

His free hand, which seemed too jealous of the other’s grip on Miss Nolan, moved to her cheek; a loving caress as he wiped silent tears off her delicate face. 

“Is there -,” she murmured. “Is there anyone else – any prior claim?“

Another simple answer, “No.”

There was no vocal reply – but Neal did not feel the loss of it! Miss Nolan moved forward to rest against his chest; dipping her head under his chin as she slowly breathed in his scent. He heard a sigh released from her– the tension in his own shoulders melting away swiftly. It was a far better outlook than Neal could have dreamed possible – to hold the Miss Nolan in his arms. For awhile the world was only them in this small, dark tunnel. The light coming from beyond the billiard’s room’s door allowed him just enough to admire the glow it gave Miss Nolan’s golden hair. 

“So you are not engaged,” emitted from the blonde; stated with a forced casual laugh. The romance of the moment temporarily stilled - leaving Neal baffled by her question! Had that not been a given, he wondered?

Neal looked down at her – Miss Nolan’s tiny fists holding on to the front of his shirt as she waited. She positively refused to look upon him; gave focus instead to a button of his shirt.

“Of course I’m not engaged,” Neal assured her gently; tilting her head up to look at him. “Why would that even –“

 

Neal’s words trailed off as he regarded the Miss Nolan’s expression. A moment of hesitation and doubt before the storm blew over – leaving Miss Nolan wearing a most radiant smile. Blushing, the young woman stood up on her toes to deposit a kiss on his cheek. Fleeting, though it was, the glee it rendered in both young people left all furthering questions abandoned for later.

Neal could certainly not continue – nor piece together coherent thoughts when he still felt those lingering lips against his skin. He could only keep enough of his wits to smile back at his love.

“I’m glad of it,” she admitted as she lowered her head to his neck; voice muffled by his cravat.

His heart was nearly pounding out of his chest now. Neal had to agree with her – for he was glad as well! There had been a flirtation in the past; an event his papa took great lengths to avoid anything more coming from. And now it seemed to have resulted in his destiny: he belonged to Miss Nolan – had all along, surely! Every moment leading him here; to her gentle soul. This was fated. 

The only thing that could have made either young person separate was a loud bang from inside the billiard’s room – and a deep female laugh following.

“What was that do you think,” Miss Nolan asked softly; looking up at him for some type of reassurance.

 “Maybe someone has had too much of Mrs. Buelle’s refreshments,” Neal wondered aloud.

He moved for the hole to find out – and almost choked on his words. An elegant woman, dressed all in black, sat atop the billiard table. Her legs opened and spread – revealing a deep red petticoat hunched up past her knees - a man’s head peaked out from between the long limbs and petticoats as the woman gave directions with a lazy point of her finger.

Neal gulped at the display – he was a good lad, to his papa’s pride. A highly sheltered lad! Such acts completely unknown to his innocence – or would have been, had his new mama not such a vast collection of novels. Mrs. Gold took great care in protecting all books. Even those novels that were banned in England and would be destroyed if discovered. It was those novels especially that schooled Neal in several … arts not covered in boarding school or lectures at Oxford.

He recovered from the shock as the woman in black grabbed a fistful of the man’s hair; forcing him deeper under her skirts – Neal awkwardly removed his eye and blocked the hole with his hand.

The woman, who’s head fell backward as she cried out in pleasure, had most certainly been his papa’s former client: Mrs. Blanchard. He turned to look at his love, knowing the harm it would cause if she knew how her grandfather’s widow behaved thus in society. And, in truth, if he was scandalized by the act – sweet Miss Nolan might faint –

When a particularly loud moan sounded through the door, Miss Nolan seemed truly concerned.

“Is someone hurt,” she asked every ounce the innocent.

He should have known his love was made of sterner stuff. If Miss Nolan felt someone else in trouble, her first response would always be to help. Thus the sweetest, bravest creature he knew pushed him to the side and threw open the door –

By now the man had risen from his knees – a hand stuffed deep down Mrs. Blanchard’s corset as the other lay hidden under skirts; his mouth attacking the widow’s long neck.

The lovers only became aware of Miss Nolan and Mr. Gold’s presence in the room when Emma squeaked in fright – Neal lamenting Emma Nolan was courageous enough to stay and witness the man turning his head – 

Mr. Graham Humbert had the decency to look embarrassed from between Mrs. Blanchard’s legs – but the woman seemed to glow with power as she fixed the top of her dress; seeming not at all concerned with what her once ‘granddaughter’s’ was now witnessing.

Miss Nolan raced back through the tunnel in a dizzy; muttering at Neal as he followed.

“I cannot –“ she repeated several times in her daze. “I simply cannot – how can THAT woman behave so? I just –“

Miss Nolan was hyperventilating – issuing such rapid, labored breathing that Neal had to wrap an arm about her shoulders to study her progress through the tunnel. The stern beauty did not faint but Neal worried for her well being. Recalling the room his stepmother and the widow Talbot could be found, Neal ushered Emma inside; helping her to the fire as he explained their arrival to the two shocked women. 

“Miss Nolan has had quite a scare,” Neal addressed to them both.

“Good heavens,” Mrs. Gold rushed to help.

“Who am I fighting,” the Widow Talbot challenged; rising to her feet and looking into a little purse at her wrist – dear, God! Neal saw the handle of a small pistol!

Neal shook his head at the widow; urging, “I think she will need to leave at once – shall I summon your carriage, Mrs. Talbot?”

“Do as you must– but point me in the direction of her offender first!”

Neal and Mrs. Gold helped Miss Nolan to a seat by the fire – Emma was in shock now; the gravity of what she’d witnessed sinking into her countenance. The poor Miss Nolan started to shake as she stared off into the flames.

“What happened, Bae,” Mrs. Gold ordered; eyeing him suspiciously as she administered a sip of brandy to Miss Nolan. _She thinks I’m to blame_ , Neal realized quickly. _That_ _I spooked her even more_ –

“We were playing Sardines,” Neal started. “And Miss Nolan and myself ended up –“

“Lost in that passage-way,” Emma gestured to the tapestry from which they’d emerged. “I don’t mean to be a child but – our candle blew out. I panicked…” 

Miss Nolan trailed off. She shifted her gaze from the fire to find Neal – taking his hand earnestly and declaring, “Thank you – for assisting me out.”

“Of course,” Neal stammered; marveling at how smooth a liar the angelic Miss Nolan proved. It would have been most unsettling – had Neal not been relishing the feel of her skin touching his own yet again. But he had to pity the lady for what she’d seen. As brave a face as she tried to accomplish, her eyes remained the size of saucers. 

“I should think your assistance- ,” she continued. “- makes up for any past confusion. And I gladly accept your apology… and _friendship_.”

She smiled at him – Neal having every reason to hope for a bright future as he helped Miss Nolan into the hallway. Mrs. Gold and Mrs. Talbot had raced off to find which of their carriages could be located quickest for Miss Nolan departure – leaving  Neal and Emma standing off near the doors in wait.

“When will I see you again,” questioned Miss Nolan; eyeing him like a lost sheep.

He thought of his calendar – the many job obligations he’d have to pay to his papa for even attending the theatre this night. But he could still remember the feel of her skin – how perfect it had felt holding Miss Nolan in his arms. And she said they could be friends -

“I don’t know presently,” he replied honestly; more than a little saddened to admit this truth. “But we shall – soon. I promise.”

And Neal knew he’d move heaven and earth to make it so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So who's angry with me? Some things have changed in the plot since I began writing this story - but I did always have Emma discovering Graham and Regina in the act/ learning that Graham was Regina's lover. I fully expect disappointment (we're all very protective of Graham!). Regina and Graham is not going to be presented as a happy or healthy pairing in this story at all! I can assure you the issue of Graham's consent will be brought up - as it never was properly on the show.
> 
> *For anyone who was confused when this chapter was uploaded on the 31st and reread this chapter: I really hope I've cleared up some confusion. But there are somethings that aren't going to be revealed until later chapters. Hang in there!


	16. Mrs. Talbot's Whist Party

Walking through the small park across from Mrs. Talbot’s residence, Emma could make out the breath of Isabelle and herself lingering in the brisk air. A walk had been suggested after a late afternoon tea – but the Widow did not last long upon her feet. A stone’s throw away was Mrs. Talbot now; bundled warmly in her thick coat as she sat upon a bench. The Widow waited patiently and bid neither young person to be deterred from their outing on her account. And Emma did feel a need for the exercise – finding the cold a diverting way to not think for a couple moments; to focus only on the crunch of light snow as Isabelle offered friendly, easy,  companionship.

“You do not find it too cold,” Isabelle asked; nose pinkened from the wind.

Emma shook her head the negative, “No – it can get much colder back home this time of year. Castleshire has vast spans of moorland. The wind rips through everything.”

“Same for me,” Isabelle admitted with a laugh. “Being born off the coast. I swear they who stay inside in London have no idea of true coldness!” 

“Was Miss Fairchild not also born off the coast,” Emma inquired.

“She was,” Isabelle simply replied; looking off into the distance.

The park seemed to have been forgotten in winter – serene and solitary as they walked alone together. Every so often, Emma could make out London again; a bend of the trees revealing the density of residential streets layered upon each other. The walkways were not as crowded as in evenings – but a steady tug of passersby and carriages still beat against cobblestone. London noise filtering into the little park. 

Emma continued, “Is she not fond of walks – I’ve noticed she does not usually join us in the afternoons –“

“No – no,” Isabelle stopped them in their trek; glancing back to Mrs. Talbot on the bench before imploring, “I can trust you, can’t I? I do so want to – but it is not my secret to maintain –“

Intrigued, Emma assured her friend, “I can be trusted. Is Miss Fairchild not well?”

“She it quite well, I promise you. But neither of us have been honest… she has a long-standing attachment to a gentleman now in town. When my father announced I was to be sent to London, both Glinda and myself seized the opportunity of having her join me here as a companion. And, while her presence has made the trip and my time thus far so enjoyable, it was always planned that she should spend as much time as possible with him –“ 

“Is Mrs. Buelle chaperoning the pair in the afternoons,” Emma naively asked.

“They are meeting unchaperoned – hardly necessary these day, really. I assure you: Glinda’s beloved is an absolute gentleman.”

“But surely that could cause scandal if they were discovered – however properly they act, people might assume something amiss,” exclaimed Emma.

Isabelle paused to think, scrunching her face in concentration being eyeing Emma, “I must admit: I have said as much to her on the subject. But… I’ve no experiences in these matters. No sweetheart. No beaus. So after cautioning her repeatedly – all I’ve to rely on are Glinda’s declarations of love and esteem for this man. He has won her good favor. And I trust him. How can you not trust someone you’ve known all your life?”

Emma thought on August: her friend – or so she’d thought. Now every ounce of her being was called forth to believe Young Gold on any matter. And Young Gold loved her, Emma recalled with a spark of delight. However perplexed she found herself over recent events, the thought of being loved by Young Gold served as a potent remedy for her soul.

Turning back to Glinda’s secret, Emma also recalled Isabelle describing Mr. Humbert upon introductions as a ‘ _friend_ ’. Thoughts of him atop Mrs. Blanchard still brought bile to Emma’s throat. 

Could Humbert be the man Glinda was sneaking around with? Could he be persuading Glinda into similar acts – and not once had marriage been hinted at by Isabelle! Emma felt the sinking sickness again – the walk no longer offering a jolly half-hour of not questioning what she’d witnessed within the Buelles’ billiards room. 

Emma had visited her grandmother Ruth’s farms enough to understand the basics of these acts: they begot offspring. While the mechanics were not known, she’d witnessed the act between grandmother’s dogs the summer she’d turned nine; a dusty, gray sheepdog rutting against a coppery collie her grandmother had called Sal. There had been a great commotion about the whole thing; both dogs whining and yipping. When grandmother Ruth’s stern maid noticed Emma watching from the doorway, Emma had been dragged back into the kitchens; reprimanded like she’d done great wrong.

Before the summer was over, Sal had a litter of puppies – one the dusty, gray coloring of the male sheepdog. 

From the dogs she realized the practicality of the act. But surely Regina and Mr. Humbert’s interests were not procreation. Emma blushed when she remembered their sounds – similar to the whine of dogs. Debauched with sensuality – everything Emma knew to be sinful and improper.

Yet – not painful. There seemed to derive a strange sort of pleasure. Elation and even excitement.

… She had felt an excitement when she'd touched Young Gold’s skin; when her lips brushed against his cheek –

“I do not know,” Emma admitted aloud; confused over everything. August’s lie. Young Gold’s love. Whatever occurred between Regina Blanchard and Graham Humbert. 

Looking up, Emma noticed they’d started walking again; nearing the edge of a walnut grove.

“ – I don’t know if I can trust a friend from childhood,” Emma admitted to Isabelle. “He’s … reported to me a great falsehood. That another gentleman has flatly denied. And I’m more inclined to believe this other gentleman –“

“Oh my! – do you have a love story in the making as well?” assessed Isabelle with a sigh. “Everyone but me! Fair enough, though: two fighting cocks – only one you. And you have a definite preference for one?”

Emma nodded, sure of herself, “I love the other gentleman. The story against him always seemed disjointed with his behavior towards me. And, hearing his denial, I’m confident he’s not engaged –“

“That could be easy to confirm,” Isabelle noted. “Have you a name for this supposed intended? The majority of London society is visiting my aunt daily. I could make some subtle inquires about a history – even long-past histories –“

“No, I honestly do trust him now. He loves me, Isabelle! He’s made it clear marriage is not presently an option but I cannot bring myself to care! Somewhere, right now, he’s out there loving me as well – and even sharing London with him for these few months makes it now worthy of all it’s exclaim.”

“Dear God – you’re positively gushing! But I must insist you let me play spy; give me something practical to do while I’m stuck listening to my aunt’s prattle.”

“I’ve no name for you,” Emma admitted. “There was never really a girl _to_ name – “

“Then your suitors’ names. I can pry into their affairs –“

Emma looked over her shoulder at the Widow Talbot before muttering to Isabelle, “Officer August Booth, of his Majesty’s Royal Navy –“

“A sailor,” Isabelle appraised with a grin.

“ – and Mr. Gold.”

“Well that one I already know. Man is lately married! Quite certain you’re the one who introduced me to his wife… ”

“No – the _younger_ Mr. Gold. B.N. Gold. A solicitor here in London. Like his father.”

“The man you introduced to us a few weeks ago – at the party after the theatre?”

“Indeed,” Emma stammered. “The very same.” 

Isabelle seemed quite pleased with herself; locking arms with Emma as they walked back towards Mrs. Talbot.

“Is that not the same evening you and he disappeared suddenly during a game of Sardines? Lord, Glinda thought you’d been abducted and was about to rip the house to shreds in search –“

“Isabelle, I assure you: nothing as delightful as you’re, no doubt, assuming occurred. I got scared in a dark tunnel and Mr. Gold returned me to Mrs. Talbot – “

“What a waste of time all alone in the dark, then,” Isabelle noted with a laugh.

“May I ask you something?” Emma remained unconvinced that Glinda’s beau a good sort – especially if it was Mr. Graham Humbert.

“Of course!”

“Why do you trust this man – Glinda’s beau?”

“Because I know him – and I always suspected he had a sweet-spot where Glinda was concerned. Even when we were children.”

But why would a man - any _decent_ man - be satisfying _appetites_ with another while the object of his affection was playing Sardines down the hall? Not that she thought for a moment ‘ _Grandmamma_ Regina’ was some innocent seduced by a roué – both parties were to blame, decided Emma with complete conviction!

“But what if people change,” Emma observed stubbornly. “And – what’s to say – a person isn’t different in town than back home?”

“You think he’s not to be trusted? – Surely people can change: for good or bad given the environments they find themselves within. But there are those I’m willing to bestow just a little more faith in than others. And Glinda, although she might not always look it, is more than capable of taking care of herself.”

Feeling compelled to inform Isabelle what she’d witnessed, Emma strengthened all her resolve and begun, “I have something rather shocking to tell you about Gra –“

“How providential,” a voice sounded from behind them. Emma turned to discover Sir Archibald bounding after them in long strides. Emma’s eye’s widen as they took in him in – the man never came to London! Never left his front-door if he could help it! Now, the usually causally dressed country-gentleman, was adorned in the newest London fashions. Donning a tight-green suit and swinging a walking stick as he approached.

The image so absurd that Emma had to bite back a laugh when he stood in front of them; graying ginger hair peeking out from under his hat.

“Sir Archibald,” Emma greeted. “I – did not expect to see you in town –“

“A sudden journey,” an energetic Sir Archibald explained. “And what a sight to find people from Castleshire in the park – almost like I’d never left at all!”

Sir Archibald bowed to Mrs. Talbot and met Isabelle graciously with another bow.

“Seems London might have an invasion this winter,” Sir Archibald joked as he assisted Widow Talbot to her feet.

For a moment, a bright excitement flashed across the Widow’s face – no doubt thinking on her vast exhibit of weaponry. Weaponry that needing good use in the Mrs. Talbot’s opinion! If there was one person disappointed that Napoleon had not invaded central England, it was the Widow Talbot. For such a fight could have been had firing on those Frenchies with her favorite toys!

Sir Archibald explained, too quickly depleting the Widow’s hopes, “Mrs. and Miss Thomas will be arriving within the month.”

“Alexandra is coming,” Emma exclaimed as she and Isabelle fell into step behind the elder pair; being led out of the park.

“I knew it,” the Widow declared. “Knew that girl could not stand being long out-done by Emma – such a competitive nature!” 

“No indeed,” Emma defended. “I’m sure she only wants to join in!”

“Any competition exists only through Castleshire society deciding two young women, at an age together, simply must be in constant-fight for adulation,” Emma explained to Isabelle.

“Emma is the sweet, good-natured one,” the Widow continued. “And Alexandra a complete –“ 

“Delight,” Sir Archibald interjected; smiling back to Emma. “Both Miss Nolan and Miss Thomas are two young folk Castleshire can pride itself on.”

Emma returned the smile; pleased that another agreed. Despite their differences, Emma cared for Alexandra; noting the girl maturing – although slower than herself. And what was so truly despicable with enjoying ‘ _silly women’s_ ’ pursuits? As tedious as Emma sometimes found Alexandra’s interests – they were honest! And heartfelt. She liked to flirt with officers – and she did so well! Alexandra fancied fine fashions – and managed to always look very smartly dressed.

More so, Emma found herself hopeful for a confidant; someone of a similar age to share her pressing concerns with.

 _Maybe another confidant_ , Emma realized when Isabelle pushed her shoulder into Emma’s in play; smirking back at her as they listened to Mrs. Talbot invite Sir Archibald to the card party she was throwing later in the week.

* * *

 

The card party was very much like those thrown at home: a quiet, respectable evening. A stark contrast to everything else London had to offer – but Emma was more than grateful for it! A light meal with a small party relieved any anxiety as Emma moved down the stairwell to enter the parlor – pausing when she heard feet scampering about in Mrs. Talbot’s study. Emma opened the door slowly, fearing to discover another pair of lovers in the act. But – it was only Major Buelle and Mrs. Talbot. The pair jumped to hide something behind their backs when the door creaked open – both relieved to find it was just Miss Nolan.

“Never take up smoking,” cautioned Mrs. Talbot; bringing a large cigar back to her lips. “It is a vile, unladylike, habit.”

Emma watched Mrs. Talbot take a long puff; embers flaring out from the tip.

“Mrs. Buelle cannot stand the smell,” the Major added. “ – claims it makes the house smell of strange ‘Eastern medicines.’ I really shouldn’t -.” But he quickly took the cigar when Mrs. Talbot offered; taking a long drag.

Feeling bold, Emma asked, “May I try?”

“Certainly not,” sounded the Major.

“Would ruin your complexion,” added the Widow. They shooed Emma out of the room. Both muttering behind her as they shut the door securely on the latch. Sighing, Emma walked back towards the parlor. The party had gathered: Mrs. Buelle looked out of sorts; dressed too finely for a quiet evening indoors. Mrs. Buelle sat primly near the fireplace. Isabelle and Glinda seated next to her. Emma frowned when she noticed both Mr. Humbert and Mr. Jefferson standing near the window. Quickly diverted her eyes from the two young men, Emma moved to station herself closer to Sir Archibald. Just in case she needed an old family friend’s protection.

“Have you seen my husband,” Mrs. Buelle demanded at Emma. “He went wandering off – “

“Mrs. Talbot is showing the Major some old maps from India – they assured me they’d return shortly,” lied Emma smoothly. The late arrival of Mrs. Gold interrupted any further interrogation from Mrs. Buelle.

Emma greeted Mrs. Gold, taking on the role of hostess in Mrs. Talbot absence, “I’m so glad you could come.”

It was difficult to maintain her smile when Young Gold did not follow his step-mother into the room. Emma had assumed, when Mrs. Talbot told her the Golds would be attending the card party, that she would share Young Gold’s company this evening. In fact, she’d counted on it – hopeful for long glances and shared smiles other the others’ heads at the whist tables. 

But the elder Mr. Gold entered instead; muttering with annoyance, “Miss Nolan,” as a greeting.

“Mr. Gold,” replied Emma. “It is so kind of you both to join us –“

“Do you think Mrs. Talbot has realized the dangers of having a party on a night like this,” her, quite _possibly,_  future-father-in-law remarked with a frown.

Emma waited for a joke; a laugh or some indication of good-humor. But then recalled with whom she was speaking.

“We have had excellent fires laid,” argued Emma; feeling the need to defend the Widow’s hospitality. “I can make sure Mrs. Gold and yourself are seated nearest the fire –“

“Oh yes: do what little you can do,” he scolded; moving to secure the seats himself – finding Mrs. Buelle not at all eager to be removed from them.

“Gold,” Mrs. Buelle sneered. “Still as ill-mannered as I recall.”

“Ah –,” he ushered the three women across the room. “The young lady –“ he gestured towards Emma. “ – is in residence here. And said that my wife and I could have these seats.”

Glinda and Isabelle stepped aside gladly – looking amused by the whole scene. But Mrs. Buelle was standing her ground, readying for a long-drawn out fight with her notorious adversary.

“Shall we start the games,” Emma called over the commotion. “I’ll have the tables brought in – everyone choose a partner; groups of four.”

By the time Emma had overseen the tables being set-up and the return of the smokers from the study, many were already seated and starting to play whist. Sir Archibald had, quite out of character, quickly secured Glinda for a partner. Never being one for card-games, Sir Archibald was very fortunate in his choice. For Miss Fairchild was muttering directions towards him kindly. Mrs. Buelle and Mrs. Talbot were the other pair at their table. The Major had been only too happy to sit-out because of uneven numbers – but had been retained to play against his will. For a spinster neighbor of Mrs. Talbot had turned up after the Golds. Numbers rounded as he sat reluctantly next to her – across from Isabelle and Mr. Jefferson. 

To Emma’s dismay, her card partner had been chosen by default: an empty chair only left at the table nearest the fire – where Young Gold really ought to be sitting right now, Emma thought saddened. For Mr. Gold and his wife sat together there. The elder Mr. Gold seemingly quite at home as he schemed his great victory. 

But, instead of joining Young Gold at the table with his family, Emma was forced to sit next to Mr. Humbert. The only person in attendance looking equally unhappy as Emma Nolan was Mr. Jefferson by Isabelle’s side – and what right did he to look so cross? Emma would have vastly preferred Isabelle! The only thing keeping her from suggesting an exchange of partners was propriety-sake. For it would be unpardonably rude to announce contempt of another in one’s company.

Mr. Humbert took a sip of wine; tongue darting out to lick a drop of wine on his lips before greeting Emma with a smile. 

“I must admit: I’m not usually one for games of chance,” Humbert addressed to Emma and the Golds.

Mr. Gold cleared his throat; shuffling the cards with ease, “Whist is not about chance – it’s about skill; precision. You must gage the situation and react with your upmost –“

“ – but it’s chiefly about supplying a diverting evening for all,” Mrs. Gold warned her husband. Emma noticed Mrs. Gold still shuffled through her cards with the ingrained skill of a true virtuoso.

Emma skimmed her cards casually, trying to appear calm as she asked, “Is the younger Mr. Gold well?”

She had been certain Mrs. Gold would answer – but Mr. Gold declared instead, “He’s off again on another adventure! Cannot keep track of him these days –“

“Gone on business,” Mrs. Gold clarified. “He was very sorry he had to leave so suddenly –“

“I do not understand this new generation,” Mr. Gold inclined his head towards Humbert and herself – and Emma did not like being linked to any group Humbert was in at all. “Always running about with their heads cut off.”

“I assure you – my head’s securely attached to my neck,” Emma quipped; placing her first card upon the table. She did not like Young Gold absence – but was not about to have his father criticize him. If Young Gold wasn’t present to defend himself, Emma was proud to defend them both in turn.  

Mr. Humbert whistled under his breath at her first play, praising, “Well said, Miss Nolan.”

Emma refused to take any of his compliments; glaring through her deck at the man before turning back to the game. Sure enough, both Mr. Gold and his Mrs. played well – quickly navigating their decisive strategies. Emma almost squealed when she won the first round. But a complete victory was not to be. Mr. Gold sized her as competition and spent the remainder of the evening plotting openly against her – Mrs. Gold watching both with concern. 

Her own stubbornness refused to be matched by the elder Mr. Gold’s – Emma could at least boast she’d put up a fair fight by the end of the evening.

It was a bitter defeat. Losing to the haughty old Scotsman! Emma had to force her countenance to retain a demure grace – much as society warranted the ideal daughter-in-law to possess. To be both sweet and comely. Not stamping their foot and declaring the winner a cheat like a petulant child. No, Emma smiled though Mr. Gold’s triumph and offered refreshments to all. Acting how society taught her a modest wife of a son should appear – because Young Gold loved her. And she loved him. And some day, God willing, marriage might be on the horizon. And Emma was not about to give Mr. Gold a reason to delay them altogether!

Mr. Gold merrily aired for all gathered his winnings – boasting he should defend his acclaim against the victors of the other tables. Had Mrs. Gold not entreated a desperate need of refreshment and a peevish hunger, Emma doubted the games would have stopped before midnight. But as Mr. Gold led his wife to the dinning cart, Emma was completely abandoned with Mr. Humbert.

“I owe you my most sincere apologizes, Miss Nolan. I am… embarrassed beyond belief that you…. – that you were forced to witness such…,” Mr. Humbert fumbled for the delicate way to describe what Emma had seen; to explain himself. 

Knowing there was truly no proper way to continue this conversation, and only too aware the rest of the party busy elsewhere, Emma forced herself to be direct, “You mean when I stumbled across you atop my grandmamma?” 

There were not many occasions in her life that Emma had actually considered Regina Blanchard as a ‘ _grandmamma_ ’. There were likely much less where Regina would think herself as one. It was always an obvious afterthought for them both. A prolonged pause before both remembered what they were connected as by society’s standards of decorum; _granddaughter_ and _grandmamma_.  But using the term now achieved the desired wince out of Mr. Humbert.

Emma glowed with pride as she chastised, “It was a sin against God – a transgression against modesty and honor. Both of you as guilty as –“

“Spoken like a true clergyman’s daughter,” Graham Humbert cut-in with a dry laugh; mirth long forgotten. “With absolute self-assurances and no understanding how the world truly works.”

“How dare you,” exclaimed Emma, seething in anger. “I can – as opposed to yourself – understand the difference between right and wrong. A symptom of my father’s profession: possibly. But, in any case, I know what I witnessed was offensive. It was obscene. And I –“

Mr. Humbert laughed again; shaking his head with a deep frown etching his face.

“Believe me, Miss Nolan: I am well aware. If this world was kinder, I’d never have to set eyes’ upon _that_ woman again.”

“Quite a harsh way to describe your love, sir,” observed Emma coldly.

“No love of mine, I can assure you,” Mr. Humbert spat under his breath. Leaving Emma all the more puzzled. What was the incentive to sin then? To perform such an act when not done out of a violent love – or to begot offspring?

“Am I -,” Emma stammered. “Am I to understand you and my –“ 

“Share a peculiar understanding,” Humbert conceded with self-contempt. “I would embarrass both you and myself to describe the arrangement further, Miss Nolan.” 

But she had to know, Emma admitted to herself. To even try to understand the circumstances that led both Mrs. Blanchard and Mr. Humbert to be alone together in that room; locked in such a lustful embrace. Just as she opened her mouth to implore Mr. Humbert to continue, Mrs. Gold returned.

The brunette eagerly munched on a dark fig as she begged Emma to take a turn about the room.

“I’ve developed such a fondness for them,” Mrs. Gold explained as they walked; stretching her free arm around Emma’s shoulder as she took another bite of the fruit.

Mrs. Gold laughed as juice ran down her chin, “In truth, I’ve developed a fondness for all food at the moment.”

Emma was not the eldest of so many little Nolans to not understand partially what Mrs. Gold was hinting at. Sure enough, Mrs. Gold’s hand left Emma’s shoulder to cradle her own middle – but it was a brief gesture. Easily missed by the rest in the room. But left Emma convinced that Mrs. Gold was with child. 

“I’ve been charged to relay a message, Emma dear,” Mrs. Gold smiled. “And I am very pleased to be acting as a confidant on this matter.”

“From Young Gold,” Emma asked quietly.

Mrs. Gold almost squealed in delight; grasping Emma’s hand as she enthusiastically nodded.

“My good stepson begs your pardon for any negligence you might be feeling –“

“What? I’m not feeling – just disappointed to not be enjoying his company. That is all. Please inform him of such. I’d hate to have him believing I am vexed with him… not again at any rate.”

“Glad to hear it! I think my stepson is himself putout by the matter. Has been trying to negotiate a opportunity to meet with you again. However- I loath to say -my own husband has been a tad overzealous with the boy’s time lately. But my stepson does believe the two of you shall meet again. And I’m more than willing to add that it shall be soon. I, myself, shall see to that! Once he has returned to London –“

“Where is he?”

It seemed a simple enough question to Emma. But Mrs. Gold looked away; taking another bite of her fig. “I cannot say, Emma. It is not for me to explain.” 

Emma attempted to pry the answer out of the woman, “But _you_ do know something I should? He has a secret?

“We all have secrets, Emma,” laughed Mrs. Gold; finishing the fig and licking her fingers desperate for more. “It is nothing horrid, I promise you. But I must remain firm on this matter. I doubt I know all of it, to be fair! And – how embarrassing it would be: to tell you only bits and pieces and us speculate the rest. No – you must hear it all from Bae in time.”

Emma latched on to Mrs. Gold’s arm; eyes pleading for confirmation. “He is a good man, isn’t he? I couldn’t bare to think he’s not – that he may act…. may act in a manner that does not befit us both.” 

“Why – of course he’s good! A complete sweet-thing, to be sure. Has he misbehaved somehow?”

“No,” Emma was quick to rebut; dreading to prolong that part of the conversation.

“Emma, has someone else behaved questionable,” the woman’s eyes darted to Mr. Humbert. He remained sitting alone by the fire.

“No – not to me,” Emma hastily remarked. “I might have witnessed something I ought not to have seen. Something I dearly wish I didn’t!”

Mrs. Gold seemed truly concerned. “And it involves Bae?”

“No! That is – he was there as well. But it didn’t immediately involve either of us.”

Emma stumbled over her words. Fidgeting with her hands as she wished to vanish in thin air; to be transported to her rooms through the ceiling and not have to discuss these matters with the kind Mrs. Gold.

But – clearly Mrs. Gold might enlighten her, Emma realized. The present proof of Mrs. Gold’s understanding on these matters poked against Emma’s arm. A round belly evidence of a successful marriage bed – and Mrs. Gold was still young. If Emma could figure out the words; bring herself to ask the right questions, Mrs. Gold might be only too happy to help. 

Then again, her mama boasted a fine league of children. And there was absolutely no possible way for Emma to ask Mrs. Nolan these questions without blushing crimson and attempting to drown herself in the family's pond.

Motherhood did not mean these women might not find something greatly amiss in an unmarried, virginal girl asking about fornication and adultery. Or even be offended by her questions.

Emma forced herself into a sweet smile; a gentle shrug of her shoulders before lying straight into Mrs. Gold’s bright blue eyes. “We stumbled onto a group of men gambling at Mrs. Buelle’s party and – from what Young Gold told me – I wondered if he gambled often.” 

“I – cannot say I’ve ever heard my step-son mention gambling,” Mrs. Gold replied perplexed. Emma wondered for a moment if her bluff would be called – but the Mrs. Gold seemed to be believing the younger woman’s lie. “If he has on occasion, I cannot say. But I highly doubt he makes much sport over those games.”  

“Then I am much glad to hear so,” Emma gushed with a sweet sigh. “Relieves my heart greatly.” 

“Are you so against gambling?”

“My father is,” another lie. “Not small tokens like during whist parties, of course. Though I’m sure he’d push for all winnings to be given to charity come morning. But fortunes are lost in serious sport. A true case of gluttony.”

“I see – well then: let me assure you my step-son does not frit away his earnings or behave so frivolously. Any comments he made about gambling - I can promise were made only as an excuse to say anything on any subject to you. Men are afraid of long silences. Positively leaves them spooked!”

“I think they’ve watered down the mead,” Mr. Gold announced as he moved into their company; glaring down at his glass as he swashed it about.

“You see,” Mrs. Gold directed to Emma. “My case is well made!”

“What are you two talking of,” demanded Mr. Gold; needing to feel himself included. 

His wife’s cleared her throat; smiling at Emma before turning towards Mr. Gold. “Emma was sharing a most generous idea – something Reverend Nolan is in support of. Can you guess?”

Mr. Gold’s face turned purple – forehead darkening from the added frown lines as he gave his wife an annoyed pout. Something passed between the married couple that Emma did not understand – an agreement or the aftermath of a prolonged fight? Either might have worked as easily as the last!

“Belle – I hardly think it is time for this discussion –“

“Hush! Miss Nolan says her father would be in support of the winnings from tonight being donated to a charitable good. And I quite agree with both of them!”

Mr. Gold gaped at his wife; stuttering his argument that he’d won. Fair and square. Over and over again: he’d won! But relented in the end, citing he had enough wealth already. At least a positive outcome came from her lies, Emma hoped. Mrs. Gold insisted they’d send the purse to an orphanage come morning.


	17. Drawing Lesson

Young Gold had fine hands. Hands that nimbly glided across his sketchbook while he worked. His left thumb had been darkened from the charcoal he’d smudged around the corners of his page. Emma found herself acutely aware of his pink tongue routinely darting out to wet his lips as he worked.

Vexingly, Young Gold refused to show her his drawing. However she’d attempt to try. They were always too mindful of each other. The realization of this left Emma exhilarated – but she had to lament how perplexing this awareness was as she leaned forward only to have Young Gold, once again, bring his sketchbook forward to his chest. Blocking all but a hint of shadowy corner from her view.

Emma huffed in defeat as Young Gold’s tongue clicked at her in mock disapproval.

Like the overindulged child she was, Emma declared, “I want to see your drawing!”

“I know you do,” Young Gold replied smoothly; turning his attention back to his art. “But I fear I must refuse.”

“You’re being annoying,” complained Emma. “I’ve seen your drawings before – why can’t you show me this one?”

Emma was certain Young Gold was trying hard not to laugh. He kept a far too stoic face as his fingers caressed the page; lingering in areas as he brushed a stroke of his pencil against the paper.

“My gran always said that’s bad luck,” he noted; keeping the sketchbook out of Emma’s viewing range. “So, if you had seen my work before, I’m entirely certain you’d have seen it finished. Not a quick sketch where the prospective is all wrong –“

Stubbornly, Emma remarked, “But I have seen your work-”

Glancing to the far side of the cozy study, Emma checked on their chaperone. And Mrs. Gold had proven to be an agreeable one at that! For Mrs. Gold was respectable – but lax. She allowed both her stepson and Miss Nolan to get to know each other better; for them to sit so near and talk so freely. But Mrs. Gold always remained in the room. Alert if anything went astray. No one could ever question the importance Mrs. Gold placed in protecting both young people from any hint of scandal.

However busy Mrs. Gold appeared- drafting a list at a desk- Emma was certain the older woman was listening and mindful of every sound her charges made.

Lowering her voice, Emma chanced, “In fact: I dare say, you left a drawing of a flower for me to find last winter.”

“Did I? How very strange,” he answered quietly back to her. His eyes remained fastened on his sketch – but Emma smirked when his hands finally stilled completely; hovering as he waited for her to continue.

“It was strange,” Emma observed. “More so because it took you so long to finish the novel your step-mother promised to lend me. And you knew full-well I was longing to read said novel!”

“… would that have been ‘ _the Mysteries of Udolpho_ ’,” he asked; feigning ignorance with a shrug.

“You know it was! And I know you are not a slow reader, sir – so I ask: why would you have tortured me so in making me wait?”

Another twitch of his shoulders and he muttered back, “In truth? I’d finished ‘ _Udolpho_ ’ a week prior. But could not get the petals right for the daisy. Almost drove myself mad but – there in behold – got it just so. And waiting is good for building character, Miss Nolan. If we got everything we wanted in life – right the moment it occurs to us to want them – mankind would never savor those moments of achievement and delight half so much.”

He laughed gaily as his hands started to move again; like his remarks were admittance enough. But Emma had to know more.

Boldly, she asked, “Why did you leave the daisy in the book? Was it meant for me? Some kind of gift?”

Young Gold smiled at her, “I left the drawing in the book because I thought you would enjoy finding it there. Must admit: it warmed my heart to think of you reading- one snowy afternoon - and finding a bit of springtime between the pages. And did you not?”

Emma returned the soft smile; assuring him, “I enjoyed it very much.”

Young Gold nodded at her; returning to his drawing with a smile Emma doubted could ever be eclipsed. She attempted to work a bit more on her own still life. But, as the hour ticked away, all Emma could boast of her morning sketching at the Gold’s was a singular, swirling, line dotted by the unexpected break of her pencil where she’d pressed too firm against the page.

The pencil’s snap brought Young Gold’s attention again. He closed his sketchpad this time and moved closer to Emma; bringing forth a small knife to sharpen the drawing tool for her.

“How’s it coming along,” he nodded down to the bare outline of what was meant to be the still life Mrs. Gold had setout for them. 

“I never know where to start,” Emma admitted; gesturing at the collection of preserved flowers and books in front of them. “Do I focus on the flowers? The table? I always end up with a right mess in any case!” 

“Here,” Young Gold pressed against her side; taking her hand in his and together moving the pencil. “You want to start breaking the scene apart. Draw a little of everything at a time – helps to get the placement accurate.”

Emma silently gave thanks to their gracious chaperone yet again – for there was a liberty in sitting so near; in the skin-to-skin contact of their hands moving together. Young Gold’s charcoal covered thumb swept across the top of Emma’s hand; an experimental brush that left a mark on her skin.

Emma’s attention remained drifting back and forth: from the way Young Gold’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed the scene to the pattern his thumb was creating atop her hand. It was a pity, really, that she could not seem to mind the advice he was sharing – for under his tutorage, Emma was certain even she could become a serviceable sketcher by anyone’s standards. But she could not! Her care was so fixed on marveling at Young Gold to school herself on art instead. 

When Young Gold realized she was not paying attention, he smiled; a wide grin as he stared back at her. 

“I am happy you are back in London,” Emma blurted at him; flushing slightly at her own forwardness.

“As am I,” Young Gold replied. “Though I think I’ve not missed London so much in the past. Not so much as on my last trip.”

“Because of me,” Emma said with pride.

“Bit presumptuous, Miss Nolan,” teased Young Gold. “I’ll have you know London has also a new art exhibit and my father is ordering much more coal than usual for our fires. And I know it’s all for my dear mama’s benefit but I am enjoying the additional warmth –“

“It’s because of me,” repeated Emma knowingly; nudging Young Gold with her elbow in play.

“Now do not let that spawn into vanity, The quiet, unassuming, country girl is quite a charm.”

“Not a charm of mine you’ve mentioned before – and I’ve never been ‘quiet’ a day in my life!”

“As you say,” Young Gold said; taking over the majority of the sketching now. 

Emma leaned back comfortably against the sofa; allowing Young Gold’s skilled hands to capture the scene. With her hand still in his grasp, Young Gold established the table-top ladened with dried roses, sugared fruits not eaten during Christmas, and a couple books Mrs. Gold had left open. 

In the immaculate spacing were the vague outlines of shapes – and Young Gold boasted, “You can fill in the details later on,” still hopeful his teaching would result in a diligent artist one day. 

Emma let him carry on – still reveling in their joined hands. And, if the end result of the contact was something to show the Widow when asked how she’d spent her morning, Emma was far better for the help!

“You see how the book is curving? Shorten the line there –“

Emma was glad to let Young Gold carry on – but needed to move the conversation away from sketching or she’d die of boredom!

“Where were you,” she asked. “- On your last trip?”

“Seaside,” Young Gold muttered back. “Near Dover.”

Dover. That was not a place Emma had expected to hear of. Not the scene of the adventures she would concoct for Young Gold. Dover was just a port-town. Not the sort of place to attract any sort of entertainment or society. Emma pondered the possibility that the Golds’ had a merchant client or two in Dover. But Mrs. Gold had seemed to suggest her stepson’s absence from the whist party was not business related.

But Dover remained the passage to the Continent for all the English. Perhaps Young Gold was booking a ship for his future travels?

“Dover? Is it not frightfully cold there this time of year? Are you planning a trip into France?” 

“No – not planning a trip to France. And yes: it was awfully cold. But still had a nice sea air. Does wonders for one’s health.”

“If ‘sea air’ is all you’re after,” observed Emma. “- is not Brighton far nearer?”

Young Gold paused; glancing down at Emma in shock. His forehead knitted together in concentration; the jolly young man suddenly serious and worn-down. For a moment, Emma worried that Young Gold might indeed have some kind of ailment that sent him traveling to the seaside for reprieve. And Mrs. Gold’s hesitation on what to tell Emma at the whist party made all the more sense now. Of course his stepmother would not want to tell a young woman that he was unwell and distempered. 

Emma watched the color return to Young Gold’s face; a large smile overtaking his features when he declared, “I’ve friends in Dover. Good friends that I try to visit as often as I am able.  There is very little of society or amusement to be found there. So I go – and try to be all the entertainment they might require!”

Smiling, Emma declared, “I’m sure you are great amusement, then!”

And she was! For Young Gold was great company to be had!

Emma felt relieved – imagining Young Gold visiting old school chums in Dover eased her heart.

“Bae,” thundered a voice down the hall. With deep regret, Emma felt Young Gold’s hand lifting off her’s as he scooted back across the chaise; picking up his sketchbook and idly tracing over his previous work.

“He’ll find us soon enough,” Young Gold announced with a laugh; causing his stepmother to turn in her chair and smile at him. 

To Miss Nolan, he observed, “I try not to leap up and present myself right away to my papa – let him have some good exercise first.”

Sure enough, the elder Mr. Gold strolled through the doorway a moment later; calling to his son, “Did you not hear me, me boy?” before pausing to kiss the top of his wife’s head. Whatever recent emergency that sent the man searching out his son seemed to be forgotten as he glanced down at his wife’s list.

“No,” Mr. Gold addressed flatly as he pressed his index finger into the paper. “And we don’t need boy names – I’ve already got a son. It’ll be a girl this time.” 

“I do not think that’s how nature work, dear,” his wife quipped. “And I’m keeping ‘ _Francis_ ’ on the list!” 

The presence of Miss Nolan was almost ignored until the Scotsman rounded on his son – noticing the blonde girl pretending to sketch next to his Bae.

“Here again,” was his greeting.

“Good morning, Mr. Gold,” Emma sounded back happily. “Your son has been kind enough to attempt to teach me this day. Though I fear I make little progress-“ 

“Miss Nolan is being modest,” Young Gold interrupted. “She is making great progress.”

Mr. Gold craned his neck and looked down at the drawing Emma was fiddling with. Unimpressed, he declared, “My – that looks quite like my son’s handy-work.”

Shrugging, Emma pointed to the dotted mistake in the center of the page, “I can claim responsibility of that part.” 

“What an improvement,” assessed Mr. Gold sarcastically; jerking his head back towards the open door. “I need to speak with you immediately,” Gold ordered his son. 

Young Gold could only mutter a hasty farewell before his father practically pulled him out of the room. 

“I am sorry,” Mrs. Gold called across the room to Emma. “When my husband becomes fixated on an issue, there’s truly nothing to deter him!”

Emma rose to hover over Mrs. Gold’s shoulder.

“Is that why you two are so well suited,” Emma inquired. “Because you are so patient and kind.”

Mrs. Gold laughed, “I have heard that estimation before: yes. But I think it has more to do with something else. He will not be deterred – and neither will I. At some point, we manage to even out the stubbornness of the other with our own.”

Proudly, Mrs. Gold pointed to a single word in a long list of names: ‘ _Francis_ ’ remained fixed on the page; now with an added line underneath.

“I remain fixed that I’m having a son. And Mr. Gold will agree, in the end, that ‘ _Francis_ ’ is the perfect name. He’s set his mind elsewhere – but I’ll not bend. You cannot even imagine the monstrosity he’s saddled Bae with,” mused Mrs. Gold. 

With nonchalance, Emma read through the list; smirking where Mrs. Gold had edited herself. Thick lines eliminating names that were pretty but didn’t suit the future little Gold.

“’ _Matilda’_ is a lovely name as well,” Emma praised as she moved back to the chaise; eyeing the drawing, which was really more Young Gold’s than her’s now, with dread. She did not fancy continuing onward – there seemed little enticement now that the true artist had been stolen away by his father.

Emma sat and moved the drawing away from her – seizing the opportunity to leaf through Young Gold’s sketchbook without any avoidance. _B.N. Gold_ was imprinted in faded gold lettering at the bottom of the leather-bound book. Feeling guilt already, Emma knew it was invading Young Gold’s privacy. Glancing at Mrs. Gold – who’d gone back to drafting her list – Emma pretended to drop the book; allowing the pages to open and fan outward.

If caught, she’d claimed she was simply picking up the fallen work.

There were sketches of flowers. Of the wilderness around Castleshire – and the seaside. Lots of sea. Of children playing in the surf – two boys waving their hands about as a seagull flew overhead. 

Of a very pretty young girl strolling along a beach; skirts raised as the waves crashed against her bare feet.

A piece of paper fell to the floor when Emma flipped open the drawing of the girl walking along the beach. Written in neat letters was a short letter: 

 

_May 18 th _

_Dover, Astar Cottage_

_Dearest Bae,_

_The robin’s eggs hatched today. Michael was very exact that you’d want to hear about the baby robins first and foremost. We’ve counted four. And it has been most difficult to convince the child that the baby robins do not belong inside the house or – God forbid- in the nursery! Even had to explain that they’d never be content living inside the cottage and their parents would miss them terribly._

_John begs for you to return soon – for we are too tiresome and silly for his tastes!_

_I have been thinking of what we last spoke of – and, as always, we remain most indebted to you. It is a fair and generous offer, Bae. As you well know._

_But separation, whatever the span of time, remains impossible to comprehend. I cannot allow for my little family to be divided any more than it,  most regrettably, already has. Please believe me when I say we mean no discourtesy. Far from it!_

_Return to us at Astar Cottage as soon as you are able. Michael even shrewdly tempts that you can sketch the baby robins if you come back to us before they’ve grown!_

_Yours most sincerely,_

_Wendy_

Emma’s mind leaped to the worst sort of conclusions all at once; constructing Young Gold into some type of seducer keeping his mistress and bastard children locked away in Dover. Out of sight – out of mind.

But it made no sense, Emma rationalized. And had she not already falsely accused Young Gold and been proven remarkably wrong in the process?

Carefully, Emma folded the letter back up; placing it delicately into the pages of the sketchbook hoping nothing would seem amiss when Young Gold came back for his sketches. 

She refused to think ill of Young Gold without solid facts – but was resolved to uncover the mystery that overtook her thoughts as Emma traveled home to Mrs. Talbot’s for tea.

Just who was Wendy of Astar Cottage, Dover?

And what was she to B.N. Gold?


End file.
